Forever Possessed
by Jonny Swift
Summary: Sidnay is a typical boy, be loves music, plays his guitar, and is a Vampire...err...maybe he isnt that normal. As heir to the title Count Dracula, he comes to Hogwarts with little more than his guitar,ideals a thirst for glory...and friends in high places
1. Chapter 1: Blood Music

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As they entered the Gates, Sidnay could already hear the roar of music. He had been awake all night waiting for this concert; a whole day of being with Tora (his crush) and the only friend he had in England, Jacob, while they listened to first rate music.

Sidnay was very different from most of the people present. For one thing he wore all black, and had a hood pulled over his head, for another, he never liked being out in daylight. And the fact that he was a vampire contributed to his differential. Sidnay himself was a guitar player; it was perhaps the one constant in his life, the one thing he could always turn to and lose himself in, and when one is theoretically immortal, the escape is more necessary than many people will presume it to be.

**NOTE: A word on Vampires: Vampires are perhaps the most misunderstood of all magical creatures. Certain myths have grown around them, many of which are false. Vampires do live off of blood, however most are so melancholy they rarely attack humans, unless under an influence known as 'bloodlust' or are pestered. If left alone to their own melancholic existence, they are usually gentile and sophisticated, enjoying their own super-underground society. The word Melancholy Is the best word to describe them, for the average vampire, due to a theoretically unlimited existence as well as a cursed and infernal damnation, means they can experience limited pleasure and that after death, damnation is almost a guarantee. Damned in this life and the next, combined with persecution by all non-vampires, vampires tend to keep to themselves, and can also be very deep and philosophical, being able to view society over a long period of time. They are not servants, and when treated as such, violence is almost inevitable. It must be understood that there are tow kinds of vampires: Primus and Auxilia. The auxilia, are merely animated corpses who stock the night seeking blood, no thought, nor logic simply action. Auxilia are usually brought into existence by baronial vampires in order to expand territory. Primus vampires are more akin to humans: able to think extremely abstractly, logically, and deeply. They have powers no human can understand, and with age, experience and social class their powers can only grow. **

**On vampire class systems, they resemble feudal warlords. Every region in the world is owned by a vampire family, amongst the most powerful and ancient are the MacBeths of Scotland, the Drakulyas (Dracula) of Romania, the Chang Xi of China, the Volgostoks of Russia, the Kageshima of Japan and the more recent O'Brian's of America. Social status in Vampire society, are determined by birth right, which bring along privileges, hindrances and greater power. Each class will have a greater variety of powers, but age brings greater power and ability. Therefore it is not uncommon to find an elderly guardsman more powerful than an overlord who is recent to this earth. Thus respect is given to those of great power and of great class.**

**On the Dracula family: They are not the most singularly powerful family, but are regarded with tremendous respect by the vampire community. The line was started by Vladimir Tepes (the Impaler of lore). Contrary to popular culture, the Dracula's own, by right, only Transylvania, but their direct influence is over all of the Balkans, Turkey, Southern Europe, much of Arabia, and Central Europe. Speculation as to whether Vladimir Tepes still lives among us as head of a coalition of vampiric forces still exists, but there is little factual evidence to support such a claim, and the title of Count Dracula falls, currently, to the Dracule clan, Dracula's grandchildren.**

**Having such long life, and such a melancholic/hellish existence there are two causes to vampire's death: one is suicide, the other slayers. The older a vampire the more dangerous, thus slayers are employed by Ministries of Magic around the world to keep the population down.**

**The Vampiric warrior surfaces only in times when they are needed, although all male vampire children are taught the 'Skilros Thanatos' or 'Hard Death', mock term for the rules which the warrior follows. Vampires in battle do not use magic directly, but prefer using hand to hand combat weapons, able to leap high in the air and land amidst their foes. Their weapons are generally self made, but of very high quality, and imbued with their own magic. Because of their emphasis on close arms training, vampire warriors generally suffer very high casualties, but this does not matter greatly to them, because since death is preferred to life, death in battle allows them to die with honor.**

And so with thoughts only of music on his mind, Sidnay (Sid) Dracule, took his seat with his friends and waited for the concert to begin.

The concert had gone well; the sky thundered with applause. The Weird Sisters backed off stage, and they cold hear the crowd dispersing, but there were a few fans left, the die hard ones calling for an encore, but this was common. They simply left their instrument on the stage and walked off, with the aloofness of a rock star. Now it was a time of relaxing and partying...and mingling with the groupies. That was what was on Michael Gladstone's mind as he left the stage.

His singing had been in good form as usual, and the band had been in rare form this evening...now alls that was left was to relax...

Sidnay searched the aisles of people searching for her: the drinks were making his hand cold! 'Maybe she's out waiting for me..." he thought to himself and than headed back towards the exit...and there he saw her...in his arms...embracing with a fire he had never seen before. The cups fell form his hand, at about the same time his stomach dropped. Both hit the ground at the same time though... "Guitar...where..." it was the only thing that could come to his mind, his only outlet...his soul. And there, before him, a gift from...god! He stumbled over to it as if he were a crusader who had finally found the Holy Grail. He didn't stop to think for a second that the owner might object to his playing it...or that it might still be plugged in...or the sound system might still be on...or that people MIGHT just turn and stare at him. Such fine details didn't cross his mind, the only sensation he had was that of flying...of soaring...leaving the world below as a flurry of notes leapt off his fingers...

They were halfway back to their ride when Michael spun around as the rest of the band did...music...someone was playing a guitar on the stage." What the..."said Gerry O'Brien, the Guitarist of the Weird Sisters," There were no acts scheduled for today after us..."they ran to the stage, expecting to see some drunks swaggering around posing for photos...instead they found a boy sitting on the edge of the stage, drawing more and more peoples attention. "Damn…".muttered Jerome Finley, the drummer," He...isn't bad!" Gerry and Jerome along with the Bassist, took a look at each other and walked out onto the stage, and took up their instruments and joined in.

Sid was aware only on a physical level the roar of the crowd, and the presence of these musicians he loved. All that mattered to him was the music...

From time to time Gerry or Jerome would look back at Michael and shake their heads in awe at this kid. When he stopped playing the crowd roared and they walked over to congratulate him, laughing at the stunned expression on his face, to find himself staring at his idols, and their grinning approval of his music. All this time Michael had been sitting there, his mind...blown. Slowly he walked out to great applause and said quietly, to the kid," You...I...I have a deal for you..."


	2. Chapter 2: Veritas

"**Vampires are a dangerous species; rarely will they be found in large crowds or associating with humans or even non-vampires…Relying solely on their own vampiric magic, in conjunction with their dislike of humans makes the presence of vampires at a Wizarding academy laughable…" (Extract from Eldred Worple's: Blood Brothers: my Life Amongst the Vampires)**

"Damn...this stuff is heavy...too heavy! Why was I sent here in the first place? I'm a friggin' vampire, why do I need wizarding training? Isn't that kind of like sending the wolf to learn from the sheep?" I couldn't help thinking to myself. I was 16 at the time, much older than most other people going to Hogwarts for the first time, but I was simply being transferred to Hogwarts from Durmstrang...I guess they thought I could take the sudden change. As that point in time though, going somewhere where I knew no one, and thought the prospects bleak of finding people willing to converse with a Vampire...much less the future (pardon the pun) bloody Count Dracula. People wouldn't guess I was one, simply by just looking, but word will spread. At that point in time returning to that drafty, run down castle in Transylvania, living with my Guardians (my parents were slain long ago), a group of Human haters if they were anything. They'd just side with the Death Eaters simply so they could kill.

I was snapped out of my reminiscences, by a large upright wooden pole, and my boxes scattered everywhere. I could hear people sniggering at me, "Ok! This coach looks good." I thought irritably, and, gathering up my trunk, coffin and guitar case, boarded the train. "Oh thank God this coach is empty!" My guardians had never thought much of my spirituality, 'that Buddhism stuff is junk..."they said, "and don't even get me started on Christianity, Hindu and Islam! Stop all of than right now and work on your fencing.', but what did they care...in fact what did I care? In two years I would be old enough to claim my title and land.'

I sat down on a chair and took out my electric guitar, and smiled: it was one of the few things that had been given me. We weren't terribly wealthy; people had learned long ago that our land was 'jinxed', leaving us with several square miles of undeveloped marshes, woods, and fields, but still, WE WERE descended from Vlad Dracula, two things ran in my family: vampires and warriors. Being vampires we did not need food, and lived off of animals, insects, and Blood given us by the Romanian Ministry of Vampire Control to keep us in check. My entire, rather extensive family disapproved of my music," It's a waist of time Sid. Learn the sword like your father."

I chuckled morosely to myself," Fat lot of good it did him...he was lynched by a mob of anti-vampires." I played a few notes on my guitar before I heard the door slide open and voices, laughing. In walked four people, two boys and two girls. A girl with bushy hair turned to me and looked surprised, the smile sliding from her face.

"Oh...we didn't know someone was in here..." she said.

I tried to smile, without showing my teeth," Oh think nothing of it. There isn't really any place to sit...the train is packed."

"Oh, well..."said a boy with bright red hair," We don't want to intrude..."

"No intrusion." I replied calmly, as sophisticated as I could."

They looked at each other and seemed to come to a consensus that there was no other place to sit, set there things down. And introduced themselves;

"I'm Hermione Granger." said the girl with bushy hair.

"Ron Weasley." said a boy with freckles and red hair.

"Ginny Weasley." said the other girl shyly.

"Harry Potter." said the final boy quietly.

I shook their hands,"Sidnay. Sidnay Dracule...I'm new to Hogwarts. Transferred from Durmstrang..."

Hermione looked curious," That doesn't sound English. Are you foreign...?"

The boy, Ron laughed," Of course he is Hermione! He went to Durmstrang."

I chuckled," Yes, I am from Romania." It was one of the few times he had been around humans, and he felt the hunger awaken in him...the hunger that I fought, and fight, daily. My hand shaking, I reached into my jacket for the hip flask, which had been filled with the prescription blood, donated by humans and wizards who feared Vampire's getting out of control. I took a desperate swig, careful not to let any blood spill. It was cold, bitter, and rather musty, satisfying the craving only on a physical level.

Ginny looked curious," What's in that?"

I replied uncomfortably," Medication."

Harry looked over from his day dream," Are you sick?"

I smiled wryly," In a manner of speaking." I put on my sunglasses lest they also notice my eyes...distinctive to a vampire: dark sunken, with Red slits for pupils, which could shine through darkness. No one seemed to notice. It soon became apparent that there were two couples, as Ginny Fell into Harry's arms and they began to talk in hushed voices, while Ron and Hermione did likewise also lowering their voices. I rolled my eyes behind the glasses and smiled despite myself. Taking my guitar in my lap, I began to play again, the familiar flying sensation taking over again, as I bent strings, fooled around with the whammy bar, scraped the pick along the strings, and satisfied my soul with the playing- the guitar was not plugged into the amplifier, and thus should bother nobody.

"Blimey..."a voice said.

I looked up and saw them all staring at me with a look of shock and awe.

"Where did you learn to do that?" asked Ron, his mouth slightly open.

I could feel myself going red, unaware people had been listening to me," Jimi Hendrix." I replied.

The reference seemed to go over all of their heads," Jimmy who?" asked Ron confusedly.

"A famous muggle guitarist Ron, you REALLY OUGHT to broaden your horizons a bit more." snapped Hermione. I could see Harry smile to himself at this.

Ron shrugged," Whatever...so this...Hiimmy Jendrix taught you to do that?"

I laughed," Oh god no. He's been dead since 1970. I learned it...you know. Watching his recordings, listening to his music, as well as broadening my musical horizons in all directions, learning and listening to all kinds of music. It's not difficult." I laughed to myself seeing their skeptical faces.

Just that the conductor came by and announced they were nearing Hogwarts. There was a shuffle to get uniforms out. I got up and took out my robes, but as I did so, my guitar must have brushed against the strap holding his concealed coffin above the seat, and with a crash, the coffin fell into the plain view of everybody present.


	3. Chapter 3: the Secret

Chapter 3

"**Vampire (Drakulya, Vampyre draconiis sanguis: Danger Rating:**

**The Anti-social vampire will interact with human beings, only to lure them into a false sense of self- confidence, so that they may more easily stalk their prey. Vampires will do this only to hide his true identity, and thus lure more victims towards him. Like an Angel Fish, vampires can bring their prey to them with their powers, and suddenly attack. Perhaps Vampires are the most dangerous magical creatures known, because not only are their magic extremely powerful and potent, but the 'primus vampyre' has the ability to think logically, rationally, and abstractly. Even werewolves are only dangerous during a full moon, and than they use only animal instinct, whereas Vampires instinct to kill is present throughout there lives. If one suspects someone of being a vampire, please inform the ministry official, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DEFEAT!...signs of a vampire: slit like red pupils in the eyes, sunken eyes, unnaturally large canine teeth, pale/ luminescent skin which occasionally turns red when it has been feeding…" (Excerpt from the New Edition of "Magical Creatures and Where to Find Them." By Newt Scamander**

There was an uncomfortable silence for several moments, before Ginny spoke, "What…is that…it looks like a…"

Sid was quick, "Yah, it's my other trunk. It holds all my stuff that I couldn't fit in that trunk. " he gestured to his rather bulky, worn chest.

"It looks like a…" Ron said slowly.

Sid quickly covered it with its canvas, "Coffin? Yes you're not the first to make that mistake. It does rather look like one doesn't it…"behind the sunglasses his eyes were terrified. The windows of the train went dark as they entered a long tunnel.

There was little speaking while they looked at him skeptically, Hermione shot a glance at Harry who looked back at her blankly.

At that time the train began to jar and jerk around on the tracks, the lights flickered and than…darkness. Screams and cries of confusion could be heard all over the train, soon a voice came over the intercom, "Err…we apologize for this unexpected stop, but it appears some damages to the track have been found, Well be a little while in repairing the tracks. Until that time, please stay in your seats and do not panic." The intercom went off, and it soon became obvious that the request was being feloniously ignored, as they could hear people running by the door along the halls, laughing.

The darkness didn't particularly Sid much, being used to its presence, especially back in Romania and the stuffy, dark castle: his vampiric senses were heightened without the presence of light: he could immediately tell that Harry and Ginny were quietly locked at the lips, while Ron and Hermione were doing likewise. Quietly he got up, slid the door back and entered the hall.

He humored himself by walking by rows of compartments, full of happy, snogging teenagers, or quiet, brooding students: he could see them, clear as day, but they were oblivious to his presence. For a moment he felt empowered, and than, suddenly, so very alone; just another shadow on time. Suddenly the lights flickered on, and the train rumbled into motion, and a general cheer was heard along the train. Sid turned to head back to his compartment, but as he turned he found himself facing Hermione. He stumbled backwards surprised.

Hermione looked grim as she said to him, "Sidnay…I know…how long have you been a…a…"

"Vampire?" Sid suggested quietly so only she could hear him, "Since I was born…unfortunately it goes much deeper than that…I am…rather a high ranking vampire…my last name is Dracula, and I will be a Count in 2 years…I will leave it at that…" he pulled Hermione into a dark corner, and said frantically.

Hermione looked as though she was deep in thought, "Of course I will, but why all the secrecy?"

Sid looked rather surprised, "You mean you…honestly don't know about the, "Please don't tell anyone…you don't know hoe my people have suffered… the ridicule, degradation, oppression, persecution…injustices we have experienced for thousands of years…if kids were to know at Hogwarts… my life may actually be in danger…well life in the loosest sense of the word…but I'm not getting into that, its rather confusing…"he gave her a small smile, before turning and returning to the compartment, without turning back. Entering the compartment, Sid took up his bundle of robes and clothes, and walked out without turning and looking at anyone present, and walked to the bathroom to change. Finally he took a look at himself in the mirror: his pale, almost luminescent, face was framed on both sides by long unruly red hair, his eyes carefully hidden behind his sunglasses, the Hogwarts uniform, which he had 'modified; by adding a black top hat, and long black cape with red lining. He checked his teeth, his long sharp fangs in place of the canines. He could feel the train slowly, so, exiting the bathroom, he went back to the compartment, and began to pack his guitar case up.

"You know, you're supposed to leave everything here, and it'll be taken up right?" Ron asked.

Sid smiled, "Yah, but I don't trust anyone or thing with my guitar…it's paranoia of mine…" the train finally came to full stop, and they joined the crowds of people, and Sid pulled the collars of his cape up more stiffly, and drew the cape around him more closely.

Stepping out onto the platform, the air was colder; the mist clung along the ground more closely, giving the coaches drawn nearby, by Thestrals which pawed the ground irritably, and there towering out of the mist, was Hogwarts School.


	4. Chapter 4: The Reprimand

Chapter 4

"**Always on the look out for prey, the vampire will shun 'being the center of attention' unless it benefits them. Preferring the darkness to light, vampires are as unlikely to appear in the limelight as in the daylight…" (Excerpt from 'Blood Brothers: My Life among the Vampires' by Eldred Worple)**

As they stepped of the train Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny quickly selected a carriage. Sidnay made to follow them, but he was quickly accosted by two men, presumably professors, one was very short wearing spectacles, the other was tall and rather lanky, with long red hair tied into a pony tail. The second man was young and wore his robes very unkempt. It was the second figure that Ron gazed at with surprise, "Bill? What are you doing here?"

Bill Weasley, for it was he, looked back at Ron with a benign smile, "Professor Weasley, Ron, and I'm the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Gringotts is downsizing, and Headmistress McGonagle offered me the job, and I took it on for a year…but we're not here for you. It's this one were after." he gestured at Sid and said with another benign smile, and a wink "He's a dangerous creature he is."

Harry suddenly noticed that Sidnay had seemed to shrink back in his cape, as if hiding from something, but this seemed to have escaped Ron, who looked rather confused, "Dangerous? Whatcha mean Bi…Professor Weasley?" Ron asked looking rather perplexed, shooting Sid glances. Bill looked rather surprised when he replied, "You mean he didn't tell you? Sid's a…"but what exactly Sid was, Bill did not finished for at that moment, Sidnay through his hands up and said, "Ok ok ok, lets go than." and began to walk towards the castle his shoulders hunched, and Harry couldn't help thinking 'What is he hiding…' before shrugging and climbed with Hermione, Ginny, and Ron into a carriage and rode towards the castle…

(Change of POV to Sidnay)

The second Bill had begun to tell Ron, Sid knew that it was impossible to keep my identity a secret, and had an inkling that by the end of the evening he would have no privacy. As he got into the coach with the two professors, he noticed a third man, and a girl; both were dressed rather shabbily, and as Sid took a seat between Professor Bill and the short one, he could immediately tell what they were, but he remained silently staring at the floor. Bill broke the silence, "Remus, its good of you to bring her up here…everyone should have a shot at an education no matter…well…you know what I mean." The man he called Remus smiled and shrugged, "Well, she does deserve better than she's gotten recently… her parents…"he shook his head. For the first time Sid looked up and found that the girl was looking at him curiously, and for some reason Sid felt himself blush, and he looked away out the window and found themselves passing into the Hogwarts courtyard. Soon the coach stopped, and couldn't help but role his eyes, when he saw a few more teachers standing there, and thought to himself 'Oh for the love of…'Professor Weasley and Professor Flitwick (for it was indeed he) brought Sidnay over to a woman, dressed in fine robes, and who must obviously have been Headmistress McGonagle the replacement for Professor Dumbledore.

Sidnay and the girl were brought forward. Professor McGonagle looked them over, before speaking to the girl, "Maria…I hope that you understand that in coming here, we will strive to treat you fairly and equally, however…we cannot always guarantee that from everyone…"she gave the girl, Maria a sympathetic look. Maria replied, "Yes I know professor, but I want to come here…"she cast her eyes down slightly. Professor McGonagle gave her a knowing smile, before responding, "Very well, please just go wait in front of the doors to the Great Hall for sorting. Ill join you there shortly." As the girl, Maria left, professor McGonagle swung to look at Sidnay; the look in her eye told that Sid would not receive such deferential treatment.

She eyed Sid for a moment before saying, "Mr. Dracule. I have received many letters from parents demanding I deny you entrance to this school, and frankly I am inclined to agree…"she gave him a hard look, "But, Professor Dumbledore, for reasons we will never know, put your name down and defended you when he was alive, so…I will trust his judgment. There will be no tolerance of any shenanigans of any kind at this school. I am told the ministry gives vampires sufficient blood, so there will be no reason for you to hunt I trust." Without waiting for an answer, "After reading through your records with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, I see no reason to trust you; your grades at your previous school were however exemplary. Do you understand all of this Mr. Dracule." She gave him another piercing gaze, and Sid replied coolly, "Very clear Professor McGonagle."

She nodded crisply, "Very well than. I notice you have made some additions to your wardrobe. You will need to rectify them in time. Now please go join Ms. Lupin at the door to the hall." Sid shouldered his guitar bag and walked through the doors, using the walking stick which bore the insignia of his clan as its handle, into the castle, his head held high, but his cheeks burning with rage, '…Bloody wizards. Think they know me. Who and what gives them the right to treat me like an inferior…like a criminal. I am a Viscount, and will in a matter of months be a Count… they have no right to treat me in this manner!" his escort turned a corner and through a door, he found himself in the waiting room to enter the hall. Maria was standing there with the man Remus chatting in hushed voices. The conversation ended abruptly as Sid turned the corner, and Maria gave the man an affectionate hug, and he disappeared through a door, and left the two of them alone.

Sid began to pace nervously, and as he spun on the spot, he caught a glance of the girl Maria. He noticed she was very beautiful' with a pale face, light brown hair down to her shoulders and unmistakable lavender eyes. He stopped pacing for a moment and stared at her, before shaking his head, and resuming his pacing. Presently the doors to the hall swung open, and Sid heard a voice from within the hall say "I would like you all to welcome, to our school, Ms. Maria Lupin, and Mr. Sidnay Dracula." With the mention of Sid's name the talking in the hall abruptly died, replaced with whispers 'Did she say Dracula?' he heard one girl whisper as he walked past. There was nothing else to do and with his head held high, his irritation rising stated "_Count _Dracula…" with a tone of correction in his voice, and he pushed up the brim of his top hat with his cane (the handle of which was in the shape of a dragon). The hall went dead silent.


	5. Chapter 5: Enter the Machine

Chapter 5

The Great Hall became silent. Professor McGonagle looked up from her parchment at Sidnay shocked at the audacity of the comment, "I…you…"she spluttered for a moment before breathing deeply and saying, "Very well…_Count_ Dracula. Although we do not use such colorful words here _Mr_. Dracule to describe our students." At this Sidnay bowed slightly, "Than as a student I am at the disposal of the school." He said passively, but Harry could notice there was a tinge of bitterness in his voice. Ron's mouth was hanging limply open, his face pale white, Hermione looked…more surprised than scared, Ginny however had clutched Harry's hand, and gripped it tightly.

A girl Harry had never seen before, but who looked pale stepped up to the sorting hat, and put it on, and seconds later the Sorting hat pronounced her a Ravenclaw. However when Sid stepped forward, and placed the hat on his head, the sorting hat hesitated. Harry waited for the pronouncement everyone was expecting. Finally the sorting hat stated boldly, "Gryffindor." There was no applause from the tables. Sid stepped down, as if he were expecting such silence, and walked over to the Gryffindor table, sitting at the very end of the table away from the ret of the Gryffindor's, almost as if he were used to separation from people. Presently the Great Hall became filled with talking and laughter, the tables suddenly filled with food. As Harry ate his meal, he glanced over from time to time to Sid, who was not eating at all, his goblet and plate remained unfilled and untouched, although from time to time Harry saw him drink form his Hip flask. But really all he did was sit there staring at his guitar case and looking wistfully at it…

"**Hey yo, and dick with this...uggh!  
Word is born  
Fight the war, fuck the norm  
Now I got no patience  
So sick of complacence  
With the D the E the F the I the A the N the C the E  
Mind of a revolutionary  
So clear the lane  
The finger to the land of the chains  
What? The land of the free?  
Whoever told you that is your enemy?  
Now something must be done  
…"**

The second the portrait hole door opened Harry was barraged with the aggressive lyrics music. It was the first Friday of the semester, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were taking full advantage of having no classes last period of the day and were looking forward to the peace and quiet of the common room. Instead they were barraged with sound after stepping into the common room, although they found only a half dozen students sitting in there: 4 thirds years who were covering their ears and speaking loudly about quidditch, and two seventh years, working on homework, nodding their heads along with the music as they studied. Hermione looked as if some great sacrilege had been committed, "This is a place of study!" and she set off up the stairs. Harry and Ron looked at each other, before running after her; running, hopping up the steps two at a time. Hermione threw the door to the boy's dormitory, and looked around the room. Sitting in the middle of the room was Sid, his legs crossed on the floor, guitar beside him, eyes closed, while he scribbled something onto a page in front of him, and, what looked like a muggle stereo, sitting across from him. "Silencio!" Hermione said pointing her wand at the stereo whish instantly became silent. Sid looked up irritably, before his gaze softened slightly, "Oh…hello… I guess maybe the music was a little too loud…" Hermione looked venomous, "Too loud! People are trying to study down there!"

Sid laughed, "Study? The third years are talking about quidditch, and those seventh years are reading comic books!" Hermione turned red at his rebuke, "Well…its still against regulations and rules! If you do it again ill have to report you." And with this she stormed off. Harry sat down on his bed and lay down; Ron however looked at Sidnay, "What were you playing there…" Sid looked up, "A muggle band names Rage Against the Machine…"

Ron looked surprised, "Muggle…do…other muggle bands sounds like that?" Sid smiled, "Some do. There are many different kinds of them…would you like to listen to some of them?" Ron nodded his head. "OK, come with me." Picking up the stereo, Sid carried it out of the dormitory.

(Change of POV to Sidnay)

Out of the dormitory, down the stairs into the common room, where he set the stereo onto a table, ran back up to the dormitory, grabbed his large DJ Headphones, and CD case, and ran back down. He had an extensive collection of CD's, his musical tastes being very broad, ranging form early Jazz Classical and the Blues, to Grunge, Punk, and Alt Rock, and EVERYTHING in between, or at least as much as his tiny allowance would allow. Sid showed Ron how to work the simple controls, "There's a lot of music there. Have fun, and listen to whatever you want to." He gave a small wink before walking back up to the dormitories.

"Jesus…he's a machine…" Sid walked up from the common room Saturday morning, "He's been listening to that stuff since yesterday…no sleep I think…" Waking up this morning, Sid had found Ron sitting at the same desk, somewhere in the middle of the Sex Pistols "Never mind the Bollocks: Here's the Sex Pistols", and looking at the stack of CDs beside him, bed gone through much of Sid's Jazz, Blues, and 60's Rock collection and had moved into the turbulent era of the 1970's, decade of Led Zeppelin, the Punk rock Revolution: the Clash, the Sex Pistols, the Damned, Siouxie and the Banshees, Sid Vicious, et al. Ron looked rather distant, with bags under his eyes, but this wild manic gleam in his eyes nonetheless. "Its best we just leave him while he's in the zone…" With that Sid sat down and began to meditate, before the confused eyes of Dean, Seamus, and Harry.


	6. Chapter 6: Hagrids Heyday

Chapter 6

The dormitory door burst open. It was early Sunday morning, and the boys awoke suddenly, Dean fell out of bed, "Ron…what…"said Neville sleepily, but Ron did not answer. He looked exhausted, and his tousled hair and rumpled clothes, as well as his puffy eyes gave him a slightly maniac look. He pulled back the curtain in a corner to reveal a coffin, wrenching it open; he pulled a startled Sid out of clumsily, and almost thrust a CD case directly into his face, before muttering something incoherently, and passing out on the floor, snoring loudly.

Sid began to laugh, "Well, we'd better get him into the bed." Harry moved to help him, but Sid picked Ron up as if he were simply a bag of feathers, and tossed him onto the bed. Too tired to ask questions, Harry felt his eyes close, and he fell asleep.

(Change of perspectives to Sidnay)

While the boys slept, Sid sat atop his coffin, deep in thought. Everything was fitting together in his head…maybe this was his destiny…but there was definitely something about the Weasley boy. He took out the letter from Michael Gladstone again, particularly, the line, 'Be on the lookout for some fancy doings in Hogsmeade soon. Gladstone'.

'Hogsmeade', thought Sid, 'What in bloody hell could possibly happen in Hogsmeade…'

"Oi, Sid, did you see this?" Ron was standing next to the announcements board in the common room, which a chattering crowd of students had surrounded. Sid stepped forward, and pushed his way through the crowd. On the board was a large sign which read:

"Friday-Sunday September 14-17: Consider Yourself Ordered

WEIRD SISTERS PLAY HOGSMEADE!

In support of their Hit new album: Healer Assistance, the Weird Sisters will be touring the United Kingdom, France, and than the World, and for e days only will be playing Hogsmeade, with such hot Supporting acts as: The Hobgoblins, Daisy Macbeth, War Locke, and Mordecai Mordecker & the Singing Dragons. Also included will be a talent contest of some young entrants playing for a top prize! Apply at: Rufus' Records Hogsmeade, Giant Gremlin Records Diagon Alley, and the Alley Cat: all instruments accepted!"

Ron looked at Sid, "You should enter that…you'll blow them all away." Sid smiled, "Perhaps I will…" he replied whilst thinking, 'Ahh…so this is what Michael was on about…' still smiling. Ever since Ron had binged on music, he and Sid had been together quite a lot, sometimes with Harry and Hermione, but usually alone. No one, other than themselves knew what they actually talked about, which almost always revolved around music.

As it turned out, Ron had rather taken to the Blues, but also, more true to his form, the Smashing Pumpkins. So they would sit around and talk about musicians that Sid was pretty sure Harry nor Hermione had ever heard of. Harry was able to sneak off or excuse himself whenever Ginny entered the room, but Hermione was not so fortunate. She often would say jokingly, "Ron should I be concerned about the amount of time your spending together with him?" When she said this Ron would always laugh, and kiss her, and Sid would roll his eyes, as Ginny would point at the back of Ron's head and feign what looked like some kind of wrestling match between two eels, with her hands, than mutter 'Hypocrite' under her breath to Harry's immense amusement.

There were times when Harry and Ginny, or Ron and Hermione would disappear, and Sid did not know, or _want _to know, where they went.

Overall, there had not been many negative reactions to his presence. Only occasionally would he be subjected to derogatory comments ('…he's a bloody vimp' or, 'Look out for the Nossy.' 'Vimp' being a common term for vampires, taken from a rural accent on the 'VAMPire' and 'Nossy' being a spin-off of 'Nosferatu'), but overall he got more shy blushing girls looking at him and talking behind their hands, than angry mobs of men wanting to lynch him, which was a nice change to say the least. Still however, Sid couldn't help but think that he were merely a curiosity to them… a handsome curiosity with porcelain skin. He had once asked Hermione, 'Why do they stare at me so?' to which she replied rather exasperated, 'Because you're a more than a handsome young noble Sid…you're a _single_ handsome young noble, and I fancy they wouldn't mind being Countesses.'

(Change of perspectives to Harry)

Monday dawned Grey and damp, with an over cast sky and a slight drizzle. Harry had to get up early, having promised Hagrid to help him with his Seventh year class. Trudging through the wet grass, with his coat pulled closer to him, Harry almost cursed his friendship with Hagrid. It was early in the morning, almost freezing cold, and Hagrid had asked him to help him dig some post holes for some reason.

It was long hard work, though with Hagrids physical strength it took only a fraction of the time, before they retired to Hagrids cabin for cups of strong hot tea, laced with Fire whiskey, where they chatted on the inevitable topic- Blast Ended Skrewts. In a strange twist of fate, Hagrid had gotten a patent from the Ministry of Law Enforcement to breed the creatures for 'domestic use and ministry employment'. ("I always knew the ministry'd see their use 'Arry.") Soon however, they could hear people assembling outside of the house: the class must be there. "Harry I'd like for you ter stick around…You might even find this class interesting." With a large wink he opened the door revealing a huddle of seventh years. Harry could see the Patil twins, Ernie Macmillan, and the girl from the first sorting, Marie Lupin. Harry still remembered the note from Professor Lupin asking Harry, Ron, and Hermione to keep an eye on her.

Hagrid stepped out in front of the class, and said, "Ok, thank yer all for coming out this early, but I'm certain you will enjoy this class. Today's topic is vampires, and to assist me…"just than they heard a loud sound, and looked into the sky and saw a Hippogriff descending on the class. Just than Harry noticed that on top of the posts he and Hagrid had dug, were watermelons.

The Hippogriff leveled out as it came to just inches off the ground, and the rider came into a view: a man in black armor. He drew a sword and as he flew by the watermelons, sliced them all cleanly in two. "He must be a formidable warrior…" Harry thought to himself, not a little impressed. The rider pulled up the Hippogriff in front of the class and Harry could see that it was Buckbeak…although Buckbeak was saddled and wearing black plate armor. The rider however was far more intimidating: he could have come out of a Samurai film as the villain. His helmet had dragons wings protruding from the side, and long curving horns coming out the top, between the helmets brim and the samurai style face mask was a slit, where one could see two red eyes burning, his breast plate was made of polished black metal and embossed with a Dragon with its wings outstretched, but he wore a black samurai style battle 'skirt' which went down to his knees, protruding from which was black metal greaves and pointed metal shoes, even his two samurai katana were dragon themed (the handle and hilt being a dragon with outstretched wings circling the hilt of both swords). The knight began to remove his helmet; "Count Sidnay Ignatius Alexandre Vladimir Dracula." announced Hagrid beaming.


	7. Chapter 7: the Count

Chapter 7

There was a general 'dropping of jaws' in the class, as people stood aghast staring at this new Sidnay. This was the first time Harry had ever seen Sid not wearing sunglasses: his eyes were a bright and penetrating color of red, although oddly hypnotic and melancholy.

Sid was quite impressive in his armor, and there was a lot of excited chattering as he strolled forward and sat down on a chair. Sid's hair was an almost violent shade of blood red, which added a sharp contrast to his black armor.

"A lot of you are probably wondering," began Sid as the class went silent, "why I am dressed in this way. I feel it only reasonable that I offer an explanation before you begin to think this was some kind of attention grab. When Professor Hagrid approached me and asked me to explain my culture to you, I decided the best introduction to vampire culture is to view the attire of the vampiric warrior. However, before we start into anything I must explain a few things that simply must be known to understand what will follow. Firstly, a vampire is probably the most dangerous… magical creature known. Even werewolves," his eyes darted briefly to Marie, before continued, "can take a potion to tame, and when they are wild, they can act predictably: I know from experience. Even so werewolves are only particularly deadly at one might a month. A vampire however seeks to quench their thirst every moment: it is a never ending curse. This in and of itself does not constitute why a vampire is dangerous: mosquitoes do the same thing. No vampire is deadly because they can think abstractly and logically. Physically about, ten times stronger than a human being, yet still weaker than a wild werewolf, a vampire is brutally rational logical and, therefore deadly. Before I frighten too many of you, vampires have two great problems: one, they are stuck in a state of permanent melancholy, unable to experience much pleasure, and the pleasure they may experience will eventually disappear. Secondly, vampires have their own brand of magic, which is difficult for humans to understand, but they have difficulty using wizarding magic, which is a good deal broader, varied and therefore gives the wizard a leg up on a vampire in the magic department. Vampires however can see, hear, and read minds inherently. I say 'read' because occlumens and legilimens is a completely different department. It is insanely difficult to block a vampire from detecting thoughts. I strongly suggest you avoid a scenario where it is involved.

"Because vampires are so melancholic, they are usually no real threat to humans if they are left alone. We are perfectly happy to live off of the blood of other creatures, but people seem to think we look specifically for humans. This is rubbish. However, there is a lot of tension between vampires and humans, but that has more to do with thousands of years of persecution. I assure you all that I greatly prefer playing guitar to attacking humans. I will now accept any questions."

The crowd looked surprised; Harry just noticed that Hermione had attended though she was bundled up in a light jacket. She looked rather shock by the site of Sid in black metal armor. She walked over to Harry, and whispered to him, "Harry what's going on? Why is Sid wearing all that armor?"

Harry shushed her as Ernie Macmillan asked, "You said you were going to explain to us about…err… warriors?"

Sid nodded, "Yes I apologize for my absentmindedness. Yes. The vampire warrior is taught a way of life which echoes such ideals as Chivalry and Bushido. Vampires…do not use magic directly, like say a wizard does. Vampires prefer hand to hand weapons imbued with their own magic. Needless to say that in battle vampire casualties are very high, but a vampire seeks death because it is better than a never changing life."

Another girl raised her hand, "What? You mean vampires don't want immortality? I would kill for that!"

Sid turned and looked at her, and she instantly seemed to realize that she had said something wrong, "A typically human answer," he said with a smile, "So you would trade what you have for something that is never changing? What makes life good is the change and experience pleasure. The theory behind eternal life is that you can experience everything possible and have fun, but if it becomes torture would you really want it?" the girl cast her eyes down and remained silent.

However, a boy Harry recognized from the Hufflepuff quidditch team said with a smirk, "You're still using swords and lances? I would have thought that with all your 'powers' you could think of something more lethal."

Sid rolled his eyes and shrugged, "Perhaps, but when you have gone through intense training and a sword is magically imbued, and it becomes a little more than merely sharpened steel and becomes an extension of the warrior's soul."

The Great Hall buzzed with voices, many talking excitedly about their classes ('you should have seen him Emerald…he was Dreamy.'), when Harry and Sid walked through the doors of the hall, Harry shivering form the cold wind, but Sid still sweating, "It gets hot in that armor man…" Sid explained, "Its Goblin made…but my father had it…modified for me." They headed for the Gryffindor table and sat down. Soon however Hermione came in, her cheeks rosy from the cold winds, and Ron followed yawning and stretching, and they both sat down, when Ron addressed Sid, "Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow mate…you gonna try out for that show?"

Sid smiled, "Hell yes." He took a swig form his flask, and Harry noticed his eyes wander overtop of Ron's head where Harry saw the girl Maria walk through the doors, but his musings were interrupted by an angry Ginny slamming her books down next to him, "God if I have to deal with Bills class one more time…" before Harry could reply, he noticed Sid was gone, yet he had not heard, nor seen him move, but he caught a glimpse of a dark figure slip out of the doors…

(Change of POV to Sid)

The sight of her had awakened something in him. Maybe if he really played well at the concert she would notice him…maybe even speak to him! Pushing his way through the crowds of people towards the common room, maybe he could squeeze some time in for his guitar before class…

He ended up getting so absorbed in his music that it was sometime later when he realized he was 15 minutes late for Defense Against the Dark Arts. With a gasp he broke into a run and burst into the classroom, panting, "IM sorry Professor Weasley…but I." Professor Weasley looked up and smiled, "Well at least you showed up to class…and brought us your guitar to show off your flashy guitar skills I imagine."

Too late Sid realized that he hadn't left his guitar in the dorm. For several moments the room was silent while Sid thought it through, "I thought it was a bit awkward when I ran here…"

Professor Weasley laughed along with the class, "Take a seat Sid, and try to be on time more often though. Were just talking about the Egyptian creatures we will be studying this unit. TO make up for your lateness, maybe you can tell us about Mummies."

Sid thought for a moment, "I know they're the Egyptian equivalent of a vampire: except they aren't bitten they use magic…They are the corpses of Witches and wizards which have in their life time been cursed, so that they cannot rest after death… they are actually more like a werewolf vampire mixture. They utilize zombies and other mummies to defend their territory…if a mummy bites or curses you, than you are cursed in your after life, and your body will become possessed…it's more complicated than that. I remember my granddad telling me about his wars against them in Turkey…nasty business there."

Professor Weasley smiled, "Correct Mr. Dracule. I knew you wouldn't disappoint me in your definition. Yes mummies are the natural enemies of the vampire, and utilize zombies at times. They are this definition into your notes," there was a scurry for quills and parchments, "A Necromancer, is any entity which resurrects the dead, to do his bidding: it is Necromancers Lord Voldemort utilizes to create his armies of inferi. Another question for you guys, how do you kill an inferi?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air, and surprisingly so did Neville's. Even Bill looked surprised, "Very well…for a change we will ask Neville." Neville went red, "Well…err…Sid was telling me you had to take off its head…"

Bill laughed again, "Impressive Neville, 5 points to Gryffindor."

As the class progressed Sid seemed to shrink back, and becomes someone …not darker, simply less illuminated, his faces covered in shadows cast by his top hat and capes collar, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind…


	8. Chapter 8: A Close Brush with Fate

Chapter 8

(Remember everyone, support human evolution artistically, by reviewing as much as you read! Give back to the artist!)

Hogsmeade that Saturday morning was bustling with people. It was not as Harry remembered it last semester; people were smiling and chatting, walking around the streets and chatting. The prospect of the concert seemed to have considerably raised people's morale considerably. Already there was a lineup outside the door of Rufus Records. Sid took one look at the lineup and said, "Bollocks to that!" turned around and walked into the Hogshead Pub. Harry looked rather surprised, because he had rather hoped that this would be Sid's big break into the music world.

Ron however looked astounded and ran after him into the Hogshead, "Oi Sid!"

(Change of perspectives to Sidnay)

He pushed the doors open and strolled through, but was knocked backward by someone else coming through the door. "Sid?" the figure inquired.

When the stars encircling Sid's head ceased to shine so brightly, Sid looks up and saw the face of Weird Sisters stocky, but exceedingly muscular, drummer Jerome, "Err…Sorry man…what are you doing anyways. I thought you would be at try outs…" he reached down and pulled Sid onto his feet, Ron standing there was looking aghast, Hermione helping dust Sid off.

Sid noticed Harry and Ginny's absence, presumably to find a place more secluded.

"Well I was gonna go sit in there, and wait for the line to go down a bit."

Jerome shrugged his shoulders, "Not a bad plan…actually just come to the stadium with me now. You can help us out with sound check if you want…I guess your friends can come too…" Hermione gave a little squeal of excitement, while Ron still looked stunned.

Together they walked, having to drag Ron part of the ways, until his mind caught up with what was happening (You could even see it in his eyes. As they walked through the entrance to the stage area construction site, you could see his pupils shrink and his eyes slide back into focus. It was really quite fascinating watching the brain reboot itself).

The stage was almost complete, though there were still wizards levitating pieces up into rafters, amplifiers and magically enhanced lights and other sound effects. Sid noticed several crates marked "Weasleys Wizarding Weases: Special Custom Job: HANDLE WITH CARE."

Ron however seemed to be more fascinated by Jerome's drum set, which he than began examining along with Jerome who began to show Ron some techniques, partially to show off, and partially to test the drum itself.

Hermione was looking around at all the workers setting equipment up.

Sid however, was characteristically ogling a series of guitars, with the same look most men would give to a naked woman. The guitars were top quality, and in fine condition: a condition Sid could only dream his Stratocaster was in. He picked one up, an old Gibson Les Paul, which looked like one of the original lines from the mid 1950's. He immediately picked it up and began to strum a few chords out, and immediately felt the shadow of the same swooping feeling he felt whenever playing his guitar. Looking out over the makeshift stadium from the stage, he felt that one day he would look out over this with a crowd cheering his name, instead of yelling insults at him.

It wasn't the kind of day Sid wanted to really show his skill off, but even so the roadies would turn around from their duties and listen for a few moments before returning to work.

It seemed only moment later that he felt a hand on his shoulder and found Jerry O'Brien with a hand on his shoulder, "Err, Sid…you missed the tryouts by…like…an hour…" Sid looked around, and it was already dark. He must have gotten really into playing the guitar, "Ah Damn it!" he yelled out, and kicked a stack of cables across the stage angrily. This may have been his big chance, and he'd blown it. Although, he wasn't as angry as he thought he would have been…there was something about playing a smaller stage, to a small group of people who would probably care very little about the overall performance and more about friends performance, didn't appeal to him.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Ah well guess I can't perform than in front of the audience than." He was surprised his insides were dancing so much at this thought…he really had to get over this stage fright.

Gerry laughed, "Yah right…your not getting out of it that easily. Mike wants you to come onstage and Jam with us for a song…"

"It's not like you can back out of it either. We've spent a lot of time speaking your praises to our friends, and many of them are gonna be there, Eric Johnston and 'Blue Moons' among others." The 'Blue Moons' were something that could be compared to the muggle band form the 60's 'Cream'. Sid began sweating; the concert was only a week away, and this…this was bigger than the simple talent contest…this was a public jam session with a group that was heralded as the 'Wizards Beatles'… "Oh man… where's my _other_ hip flask…" Sid thought to himself.

The walk out of Hogsmeade towards the castle was trouble, there were a group of wizards near the edge of Hogsmeade and he could hear them mutter, 'Vimp…' and glared at him as he walked by. Sid shouldered his guitar uncomfortably and continued walking ignoring them. As he neared the gates to the school, Sid could see a group of girls clustered around a rock. Maria was amongst them. As Sid approached them, doing his best to disappear in the folds of his cloak, they glanced his way and he could hear Maria say, "Its ok guys…you go on ahead. There's something I need to do." Her friends turned and glanced at Sid, giggling. Sid gulped and stared at the girls walking away as if they were a group of cannibals, with whom he had just narrowly avoided becoming lunch.

He gulped again and continued walking, suddenly his stomach felt like exploding, and showering everything within several feet with his food for the last few days…that is to say several pints of Blood.

He started to walk forward and was only slightly surprised when Maria stepped beside him and began to walk with him.

"Err…hello." he said shyly, "I'm…"

"Sidnay Ignatious Alexandre Vladimir Dracula." She said with a wry smile. He had never noticed how exceedingly beautiful she was, "I am…"

"Maria Lupin." Sid finished her sentence, "I remember from your sorting…"he replied to her surprised expression.

They walked in silence through the gates; she seemed overtaken by shyness now.

Nonchalantly he looked at her through the corner of his eye, "I wonder have you taken your potion for tonight?"

She stopped and looked at him with wide eyes, "How did you…"

"When you have been around magical creatures, and been on the underground for your entire life, you can tell certain things about certain people."

She looked worried, "You wont…you wont…tell…anyone will you."

He gave her a wry smile, "Your species isn't the only one that has faced persecution." His voice became as dark as the shadows around his eyes, "However, your persecution however extends only to temporal entity, and whereas ours is more…extensive shall we say. However I am sympathetic to your kind." he took her hands and kissed it, "I hope we…meet again" and with a swish of his cape he vanished into a secret passageway.

((I'm sorry this took so long to write…I've been…distracted))


	9. Chapter 9: Dreads

Chapter 9

"All the world is but a stage, and all the men and women merely players"

William Shakespeare

Great events are rarely planned. It is common thought that fate has a romantic aspect to it, which allows not only the event itself to occur, but also allows grandfathers to spin yarns to grandchildren. Yarns turn into myth, myth into legend, until the whole event has spun out of context and you have aliens where there were none, and 10 times the soldiers actually involved in the conflict. However, it can be said, that the events that spawn legend are those at are both planned, and spontaneous, the events where you have the Jimi Hendrix Experience backing up Jefferson Airplane at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967, the Beatles arriving in America for the first time, or the great siege of Troy. Great events are planned, but revolutions are both planned and spontaneous. However, when great events can be predicted and given a particular point in time, people's reactions are predictable: there will be a direct correlation between the closeness to the day, and the general excitement (or fear) looking up to the day. It was an attitude such as this that infected Hogwarts in the week leading up to the concert.

'Gah stupid fools, don't they know that on that day ill be humiliating myself in front of thousands of people!' was all Sid could think whenever he passed a group of giggling girls, clustered like nuns around a poster. 'Especially… er…well…her.' he kept thinking. He had planned it all out: he triumphantly would give a stellar performance, and walk off the stage, where she would be, looking at him reverently, and he would kiss her! Actually work up the courage! No more hiding himself behind a veil of apathy! Who cared if this love he felt would only be a temporary surge of emotion, than cast back into a pit of melancholia… it would be the sweetest time ever.

The days seemed to shift in and out until it was Friday. Ron's snoring sounded much like a chainsaw being eaten by a man snoring insanely loudly. Harry kept muttering something about Ginny ('Really he's gotta get something for those hormones' Sid thought, 'One minute he's spitting acid at everyone around him, the next he's spitting… well… maybe he's bipolar. Like Kurt Cobain!'), however even if Ron hadn't been devouring a chainsaw, and Harry kept his all to personal dreams to himself, he would be unable to sleep, so much on his mind…the concert, and Maria…and the concert…and than back to Maria. Eventually he got off his coffin lid (he was too nervous to sit inside an enclosed space) and walked down the stairs into the common room.

His guitar was leaning against a chair. He had purchased a brand new set of strings…he really couldn't afford them, but than Michael had insisted and bough them for him…his strings were old and would break anytime soon.

Picking it up, he strummed the strings and, at they all snapped…at exactly the same time

"Whoa… what are the odds of that?" he stared in astonishment at the guitar. With a sigh, Sid began to remove the old strings and put the new ones on, not a lengthy process, but a tedious and necessary one.

So much on his mind, but not much to do about it…except face his demons head on tomorrow. He had the feeling that he was on the verge of something big…which of course he was: the concert tomorrow would be the first major one since Voldemort's return.

Sid set his guitar down and gazed into the fire, and suddenly felt a sudden burst of emotion which left him gasping: to a vampire emotion was something that rarely came, and therefore often had an effect similar to a punch in the face. He realize dhow weary he was…the kind of weariness that stress can only make worse. He must have slept, for he blinked and when he opened his eyes, sunlight was streaming in through the windows…upside down. He was dangling from the ceiling. "Huh. When'd that happen." It was customary for a vampire top sleep upside down, if they were not inside a coffin. He was just pondering how he would get down, when he looked over and saw Harry looking at him from the doorway leading to the boy's dormitory. He looked tired and non phased, shrugged staring at Sid, "I don't want to know…"he mumbled.  
"Good morning to you too sunshine." Sid replied with the same distinct feeling that Harry didn't like him very much.

It was than that with a dreadful jolt he remembered the concert…and promptly fell form the ceiling with a loud crash onto the floor. He got up and dusted himself off, praying no one had seen that. It was very early in the morning, but the sun was just cresting over the forbidden forest, and he suddenly felt something rise inside him: a monster that was crying to be released. There was something poetically just about a vampire watching the sun rise with such rapt attention, and as the sun rose Sid bowed at the waist as a mark of respect to something so powerful and eternal as he. Like Yin paying respect to Yang.

It was early yet, and the concert would not be for several hours, but Sid could wait no longer, and really didn't want to face all the happy people watching him and muttering or giggling. He got up and walked out of the portrait hole carrying his guitar slung over his shoulder.

Down the stairs, into the Entrance room to Hogwarts, and out the doors, and onto the school grounds. Even this early in the morning the roads were full of people making their way to the concert grounds: mothers carrying children in their arms, babies wailing, children running along the throngs of people laughing and playing, yet the sun seemed to dim around Sid when he passed by, his capes collar pulled high. He could easily pass for a wealthy pure blood, but he nevertheless drew a few snide remarks from the concert goers, who would soon be fighting for a position to watch him play. Now THAT was poetic justice.

He pushed his way into the town's gates, and was immediately taken aback by the sheer number of people who were there, shopping, loitering, looking for autographs, eating or arguing. Sid pushed his way through the crowds, making sure his guitar was extra safe, and it was not without a little relief when he saw the tent which had been erected for the artist's uses (aka. Sleeping, eating, drinking and groupies…more the latter than the former…), and walked past the burly security guards. The tent was quiet except for the scratching of a pen and snores. There was something about the scratching of the quill that drew Sid towards it: it had urgency to it, as if the writer were spilling out his soul over the parchment.

The scratching of the quill picked up urgency, and as Sid turned a corner and saw a teenager, about his age, shirtless, sitting on the side of the bed. His skin was bronze, and his hair made up in long dreadlocks, and he was quite thin. He was wearing large DJ's headphones and writing on a slip of parchment, illuminated only by a single candle, while another form could be seen beneath the covers of the mattress. The dreadlocked man looked over at Sid and said, "Can I help you?"

Sid just starred at him behind his sun glasses, "Umm…I'm just looking for the Weird Sisters…but they wouldn't be awake would they…"

Dreadlocks looked at Sid for a moment before getting up, "No. You must be Sid though. They were talking about you last night." He looked at Sid's guitar case and said with a sneer, "I would never think I'd ever see the day when one of your kind would attempt music."

Sid sneered, "Hey, fuck you man." He spat on the floor in front of Dreadlocks and left the tent seething. He faced that so often, but that particular comment cut deeply. The sun was just cresting the horizon, and as Sid walked through the tent community people would emerge from tents rubbing the sleep from their eyes and staring at Sid, astounded that any form of life existed before 6:23 am.

The Stage was set up for the performance, and as Sid stood on the stage he again felt comfortable: a sense of comfort he had never had, even at home. Even at this early hour the field was filling with people hoping to catch good seat to see the concert. It seemed as if time were speeding up. Before his very eyes Sid could see the crowds of people entering, as the sun rose. It was like a documentary where the film was fast forwarded: the sun rose. His trance was broken only by a pat on his shoulder; he turned to see Michael standing there, looking more than a little drunk.

"Hey Schid; you should come sit with us!" and he dragged Sid over to a table just off stage where the Weird Sisters sat, bearing a striking resemblance to photos of the Beatles. They all raised goblets to him when Sid appeared. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Dreadlocks setting up a drum set for a band about to play.

Time seemed to skip ahead almost at an exponential rate: it was all a confused mixture of sounds, colors, howls, hollers, thunder would be heard distantly in the sky, rumblings of what could come, and amid all of the discombobulation, Sid could hear and feel something more powerful and louder: fate.

When the weird sisters took the stage the sun was setting: it was a time when Sid's vampire senses were going insane: the smell anticipation, of life… of blood: it was all intoxicating, and he drank it up: his stomach felt as if Butterflies had obtained copies of Che Guevara's book on guerrilla Warfare, and than laid their hands on some AK 47's and proceeding to set up some kind of pseudo communist peoples republic.

Michael began to sing, and the Weird sisters played along: time was ticking down, before time was, finally Michael began his introduction, and Sid, guitar in hand, stepped forth into the limelight.

He had envisioned thunderous accolades, torrents of flowers, cheers, yells…he had expected Maria to be in the front row. What he got was actual thunder and torrents of Rain. Almost to the second he got on stage, sheets of water began to fall: stage wizards began to cast charms around the stage to keep the performers dry, and he couldn't help but mutter to himself that this couldn't be a good sign. Michael however would not be deflated, despite the weather, "Ok ladies and gentleman, were gonna ease things down here with a little jammin'." He looked over at Sid, "Yah ready man?"

((gah I know it's been forever since my updating! I'm very sorry to everyone: what with work, co op and school… You all might be interested to hear that the girl whom this was meant to… well the girl whom Maria is based upon, is now my girlfriend ))


	10. Chapter 10: the Stigmata

Chapter 10: the Stigmata

The rain poured, as the started playing; it all seemed very monotonous, without much feeling. His first time on stage and he was faltering. Badly. So badly that Michael actually stopped what he was doing to apologize for technical problems. Anger bubbled beneath my skin: anger that my own soul seemed so wary today, refusing to come out on ply. On this rainy day…That rhyme repeated over in his head…he would always be that little boy if he didn't do something now…

He kicked his amp angrily and it fell with a loud bang…and in this act of aggression inspiration sprung. He had seen some people do it dozens of times with guitars, but no one had actually done it this far. He kicked his amp upright: the resulting feedback screeched and howled, and with some coaxing form his whammy bar created the unmistakable sound of an airplane overhead. Heads perked up in the audience: some looking at the sky, searching for the low flying muggle airplane: than the shrieks and whistles of bombs began to pierce the cloudy sky directly overhead. Michael turned to look at Sid, but He…that is to say I, was in a world of my own. Finally, the explosion, eyes leapt back to me: some pick scraping brought the sound of machine guns…firing at the bomber which continued to drone in the air: the dogfight continued: I as dimly aware of other music, but this was primarily my show: the other guitarist didn't even seem to be trying to intervene. The swooping runs, some people were still searching the skies, other seemed transfixed upon me in some kind of awed shock and horror: I could sense it in them. Soon music took the place of the dogfight, but I could still tell it was twisted, angry, tortured and dissonant: 18 years worth of oppression, degradation, bitterness, all coming out through these six strings: the bass and drums cut out, as the last low and mournful notes came tumbling out of his fingers: the monster always within him satisfied for now, sliding back into his cavernous mind, its lair, its one safety. There was silence and Sid slowly unplugged his guitar, and walked offstage: he could almost feel their eyes upon him. Applause. Cheers. Screams. There was an out roar of the crowd. 'More' they shouted. 'More'. This is what he had wanted, they had felt him among them: reached out and grabbed them by the throat, not let go: touched them. But it was time to sheath my guitar for the night…

Something awoke Harry that night: perhaps it was only a bad dream, perhaps it was Ron's unnecessarily loud snoring (or the fact he could have just hear the door creak shut and who he though was Hermione sneaking out…bad dreams he told himself). Something about Sid's playing had crept into his dreams…that dissonant whining piercing beauty…the colors, the 'kaleidoscope of music' as Sid had referred to it briefly to the excited group of students who had accosted him before he had retreated to his coffin.

But now the coffin lid was open. Harry could not see Sid in it, he had vanished. Something drew him out of that room, out of the common room, into the halls. Towards the dungeons, past the Great Hall, and than, in a hall he had never been, two massive arched doors, marked with crucifixes: obviously the castles old chapel, its doors coated with dust, but they were ajar.

Now Harry was wide awake, not fully understanding or comprehending where he was and how he could get there. But there was a sound inside: faintly like bacon sizzling… and muttering, in a low voice, he pushed the door open: the cathedral was dark, full of shadows and dust, long gone unused; its high domed ceiling covered with relief's of, what Harry could only think, were Biblical references, high windows, boarded up, but some with broken or semi broken pains of glass, allowing faint moonlight to stream through. There was a podium in the middle where the priest would have stood, a large crucifix, tarnished with ages, but it was the figure prostrate in front of the alter that drew his attention.

"…in the name of the father….and of the son…and of the holy ghost…" Sid kept muttering: in the faint light cast by a candle Harry could see Sid was shirtless, and covered with sweat, and in a moment of horror, he realized that the sizzling sound was emanating from Sid: his skin rough, and red as if being burned…or scorched more like. Sid let out a low moan, "Father…forgive me please…" his voice was choked with tears as he gazed upon the crucifix: Christ's eyes looking sorrowfully, pitifully at him. "Forgive this sinner…please…forgive your damned…allow me to attain salvation…end my suffering…" he muttered, his voice choked with tears. Harry moved. Sid stiffened and spun around, his red eyed burned through the darkness, focusing on Harry. He hissed, baring his fangs, and leapt into the rafters, it must have been 50 feet overhead and landed on the sill and disappeared onto the roof…

"I swear, I wasn't dreaming!" Harry muttered heatedly to Ron and Hermione the next morning. Ron took a bite of his eggs, "Come off it Harry! Maybe that music freaked you out more than us. I mean a vampire in a church? That's…insane Harry." Hermione looked skeptical as well but remained silent, and picked at her food.

Sid was not in any of his morning classes, nor was he there for lunch: no one had seen him since the concert. None of the teachers seemed to care particularly, and it was even muttered by a few that maybe that "No good Vimp." Had come a cropper of something in the forest and they were rid of his "Menace" for good. Harry knew something was wrong when his guitar remained in the dormitory, and hadn't 'mysteriously dissappeared'. However he would turn up sometime… or so some hoped: he had never been anything but a real gentleman, compassionate, quiet, reserved, intellectual, though he had always seemed to stand out…like a wolf will stand out in the middle of some sheep.

The night air was cool…clean…pure as Sid slipped back into the giant cathedral. Instantly he felt as if a thousand fires had been lit on his skin, felt the stinging pain…to tread on Holy Ground. But he had to redeem himself: he could not accept that God would damn his wolves for an eternity: after all, were the wolves not children of god as much as the sheep were? But the stinging sensation…a constant reminder of what he was…who he was. He would attend whatever he could in efforts to redeem his soul: cathedrals, Buddhist or Hindu shrines, Synagogue, Mosques…all the same thing: he was cast out.

He, or rather I (but I must attempt some kind of objectivity, the reason of which you will understand presently) , knelt at the alter and bowed my head again, and began to utter a prayer. Something was different about the night…there was a presence when I entered. For a moment there was a flash of white light: I felt myself uplifted from him, who lay beneath my prostrate on the ground: knees still bent, and arms slightly spread eagled as if I were to fly away: another flash.

I found myself on a great plain: flat. Grey clouds concealed the sun, and the wind swept swiftly by: dust in my eyes, a faint drizzle of rain. Than on the horizon, the edge of a great canyon or crevasse, even from where I stood I could recognize the Roman plumes and a single man, dragging log. The column stopped at the crevasse, and the man was thrust forward, the log turned to the side, and I could see in a moment of horror it was no log: it was a cross. The man was lain on the cross (he offered no resistance) and I could see a legionnaire kneel, saw his arms rise and fall with hammer strokes. I cried out and started to run, this was surely my chance for redemption. But as I moved, I could not: I was running, but going no where. I ran more frantically, pushing hard, but the wind seemed a shield.

The wind whispered in me 'The Blood of Christ…the Blood of Christ…' in one continuous rhythm, driving me mad, and the hunger rising: I knew that he must be bleeding in the physical world for me to hunger so. The cross was erect now, the legionnaires turned around and left, leaving the man to the elements. The greatest despair I have ever known possessed me at that moment, and I fell to my knees and began to weep… tears of mourning: I wanted to yell and scream, but no words came.

'the blood of Christ…the blood of Christ…shed for you… ' this time it was a taunt, the wind laughing at me, but still that ever pounding line…

I found myself at the foot of the cross suddenly, the wind whipping my clothes around me, my hair in my eyes. Jesus turned his head to look at me, his eyes so full of sorrow, that I felt myself fall to my knees again, and I wept into his feet, "My child why do you cry…?" he said with a smile.

The garden was beautiful, plant and vegetation everywhere. Jesus now sat upon a rock, weaving a cloak. I had the strongest urge to stand with him…to feel his glory for one moment: a moment that I was not damned. But I hesitated. Christ looked up and smiled, "Why do you hesitate my child?" he asked with a smile, his olive skin shone with a faint trickle of sweat, his dark eyes seemed to glow with goodness.

I replied quietly, "Because…I am the wolf who prays on the sheep…I do not deserve your love or the love of god…I am of the damned that stalk this earth…"

He smiled again and beckoned me closer, this time I rushed forward and knelt before him, and said tears welling in my eyes, "Forgive me father…I…" he motioned me to be silent before saying:

"Sidnay, son of Ignatious Dracule, Count of Drakulya: I know your plight. God loves you and your kind and all humankind, albeit some justify their acts of evil in my name. Your barriers are mental: those of your kind are mental: accept love, accept compassion, and salvation Is yours."

I openly began to cry into his robes again: this was the only time a human (well in this case 'Human', he is the son of god after all) had ever forgiven me. I felt uplifted, but He was not finished.

"Allow me to demonstrate." He turned and as I followed his gaze I saw, form the sky an angel descend, clad in shimmering white robes, its black eyes shone with goodness, and from the ground a blackened demon sprung from the soil, its white eyes stared back at the angel: they met in mid air and began a furious battle: in circles, each chasing the other feet: faster and faster they both spun, they blurred and suddenly, I was struck by what they created: a Yin Yang in the sky shimmering, glorious. Christ evidently felt my grasp of this instantly. "Good," he said, "You can pass on, to your next level…"

((it is at this point that I will state this: Sidnay is…well…based loosely upon myself: there are elements of me in him, as there are elements of any writer in their characters. I am not going to be strictly discussing Christian spirituality, but it's a good place to start, and In my mind its gonna make for one hell of a story! I ask everyone to simply hang in with my spiritual jabber. I can only say right now that some interesting…entities will be appearing soon. It's all planned out. Please stick with me here!))


	11. Chapter 11: Trancendent Decision

Chapter 11: Trimurti

I was in a blackness: I say this awkward sentence because that is all that I can come up with to describe where I was. That I saw a tiny spec of light. Than another. Soon many. I was falling… the stars (that is indeed what they were) spun around: voices, millions of voices…billions of voices all speaking simultaneously, but it was far from discombobulating, it was quite comforting: this vastness of space occupied by soothing voices. Suddenly I landed gently on nothingness, as if an invisible plateau had been erected for me to stand, and I sat in the square: in each corner sat a figure, though they were bathed in shadow, and I caught only snippets of color: blue skin…than peach skin…and many colors, felt their eyes upon me. For the first time in my life I felt…terrified: what fate was this? Was this hell? I wished I had been armed. But soon one spoke, and his voice was not harsh or menacing, but gentle, "Welcome Sidnay, we have been expecting you." On the horizon of my vision (if space can be said to have horizons, but that is a debate for another time) a meteor arced gracefully by, its blue tail had an eerie glow to it, casting a pail light over my companions.

The Buddha was not as I had expected him, nor was Shiva, Lord Brahma or Vishnu. The Buddha was very fat…and at the same time painfully thin; as if I closed one eye and opened another he were thin…than fat: overindulgent…and than acetic. Shiva was both very angry and gentle at the same time. Only Brahma exuded an overwhelming complacence which soothed me, Vishnu seemed deep in his (or should I say 'its') own thoughts, deeply meditative. Vishnu spoke next though, "It is beautiful is it not? Eternal. Magestic. Such is love. Our love is eternal, universal, and endless."

Shiva began next in a voice that was at once menacing and soothing, "It is a pity that destiny dictates that all will be destroyed."

I was shocked: such an open admittance of the inevitable, and again I was swept up in the beauty of all around me: The planets seemed magnified, more luminescent, the stars more dazzling. I felt anger rising: what beast could destroy such beauty. Lord Brahma smiled, "I sense your anger, but I am puzzled why. Forgive me of this please, it has only been 1 million years since I created this for Him, but your kind have always perplexed and confused me."

"Without destruction, creation can not occur. With out darkness there can be no light, and without light there can be no darkness. Do you understand?" again, the angel and demon locked in eternal combat, turned into a Yin Yang before my eyes, and the Buddha nodded.

"A flower must die in order for the fruit to grow. A seed must disappear for the tree to spring."

"It matters very little in the end. Fate decides all." said Shiva again. "But you must decide what that is. There are many paths for one to follow, each has their own fate. And besides, if you can look objectively at life, you can notice some interesting parallels."

"Decide my own fate?" Sid asked puzzled, "Follow my paths? How do I find the paths if the way is obscured by a wall?"

"You attack that wall, until a path is clear."

"What of Ahimsa? What of non-violence? Are these not what you proclaim so boldly?" I was beginning to feel irritated: the dreamlike state was beginning to shimmer with dazzling colors a kaleidoscopic array of lights, textures, sounds all pushing and pressing on me.

Brahma smiled and bowed slightly, "Ahh. Now I understand: you are caught between to great forces; that of peace, and that of aggression. On one level you are a pacifist, but you are also vampire, a creature of violence. Perhaps it is time you meet your spirit guides…"

There was a throbbing, pulsing sound, and for a single, breathtaking moment he could see the entire cosmic array of levels to Nirvana: levels of angels and demons, some fighting, but the higher the levels got, the angels and devils were harmony: there were sprawling Hindu gods, thousands of them, all bowing to some mysterious course, all beautiful and yet terrifying. For one split second he felt, and experienced Nirvana: total enlightenment. The Trimurti smiled upon him and bowed, "Go from herewith the blessing of God. Continue your journey traveler." I was moving from the astral platform, rising, soaring, and yet, the sensation of falling slowly or descending, and I felt myself land on solid ground.

A massive wall, stretching for as far as I could see huge wooden gates: they opened, and an angel walked out smiling, "Welcome Sidnay. Welcome to Valhalla. If you would just like to follow me…"

Valhalla was nothing I could have imagined it to be: there were no evil spirits battling with massive, muscular and armored Berserkers.

He was being led along a long hallway which dissected a large courtyard: a low wall lined both sides, and large archways opening onto the courtyard. He could see them now: Julius Caesar standing and chatting with Oda Nobunaga, Napoleon Bonaparte and Alexander the Great playing Risk, George Patton chatting with, who Sid thought was, Xenophon, Togukawa Ieyasu writing a poem…his father who smiled and waved as Sid passed, before returning to his game of chess with Genghis Khan.

They reached the end of the corridor, and the angel opened another hair of wooden doors, "Please enter. Your guides await you…" Through the doors was pitch black, nothingness that could be perceived: it was not only perceived it radiated. I felt hesitant to enter, but the kind smile on the angels face reassured me enough to compose myself to enter: after all, if this was the after life, what was left to lose?

I don't know how, but I only had the realization that I was not walking, nor moving…nor even upright. I was sitting in a circle of light, upon a wooden floor: all round us was darkness: sold darkness, as if it were an impenetrable wall. I say 'us' because I was not alone. Sitting on a mat across from me was a man: he was not particularly handsome: his face was obviously Japanese…or Asian. A katana was laid out horizontally in front of him, its black sheath almost a dividing line between them He bore signs on his face of severe skin problems: acne perhaps? His short Black hair was unkempt, he looked…like a wild man, although he sat composed and blinked at Sid. This was a man whom he had seen many times in ancient Japanese portraits, and Sid started up as he recognized the face, astonished.

The samurai bowed. "Miyamoto Musashi."

((Normally I would cut it off there, as it is a natural stopping point, but I want to get through this. All will be illuminated in good time))

Sid was speechless, shocked: the Greatest swordsman ever to come out of Japan, the man who fought 60 duels and was never defeated once, survived several battlefields…the man who had died 400 years ago… the renowned poet and artist…both Yin and Yang…the essence of a Samurai.

"You are my…"

"No, _you_ are me." Musashi replied, "And, you are you. Perhaps I should explain: when someone wishes to be reincarnated, they choose the body of a person they feel most attached too, but those bodies also have souls, therefore they become a mixture of both, but since the two souls are so similar in their basis of ideals, that they almost are always indistinguishable. Hence you are me and you, at once."

It made no sense, and yet at once Sid knew it to be true: there were too many parallels. Both were self reliant, both artistically skilled, both warriors, both ardent non conformists.

"I…what…I understand…"

"Sidnay… I am only a guide: ultimately I can offer advice, but it is only my side speaking: there are many ways for which a warrior to manifest his spirit: whether he applies it to warlike or peaceful ends, both are equally powerful, and both are still warriors, and ultimately, it is YOUR decision to make. You're fated for great things…and trying things. You have two paths set before you." To the left of them another rectangle of light shone, n the middle was a raise piece of floor and on it, sat two objects on racks: one was a Guitar, the other a Sword. Sidnay, your future is defined by these two tools. I feel that in the end you will see that these tools have more in common than you could possibly imagine… but which will you choose? How will you manifest your destiny?"

((It is here that everything gets more complex. Now, mainly because I couldn't decide which path I liked more in my day dreams, the path will split into two distinct paths: one will be where Sid chooses the Guitar, the other where he chooses Sword: read whichever you want to, or both! Crazy shit is going to hit the insanity fan!

I apologize now for my muddled, and probably difficult, wording and sentences which I use. This is simply a reflection that, at times, I am unable to transfer my exact feelings, thoughts and visions onto paper. The English language is very confining. It all leads to a rather boring read, so I'm sorry my readers, I will try to spice things up. Frankly I'm surprised I've gotten so many supporters: surprised and pleased! Please Review my story, and if you have any suggestions for plot lines or inprovements, please dont hesitate to state them!))


	12. Chapter 12: A Road Divided

Chapter 12: A Road Divided

"Whether his spiritual visions were real or simply a reflection of his subconscious mind as some modern alchemists speculate, Sidnay Dracule, was about to transmute into the legendary, Vladimir Drakulya." Within the Dragons Eyes: A biography of Count Sidnay Ignatius Alexandre Vladimir Dracule, by Emerich Stoltz

Path the Firste: The Way of the Sword

Sid awoke: he was lying in a hospital bed. His arms were stiff: there was dried blood on his wrists and ankles. Confusion; what was going on, where was he? Where was Musashi-sama? He was surrounded by a blue curtain. He shifted his arms out of their spread eagle fashion they were in…as if he had been crucified.

The curtain was flung open and the nurse walked in carrying a tray of medicine, but when she saw him sitting upright, she started back in surprise before regaining her composure "So, your finally awake are you?"

Sid looked around and moved his arms around, "Yah I'm Ok." He reached on the bedside table for his sunglasses, and sat up on the edge of the bed before examine his arms and wrists: both arms are covered in bandages up to his elbows, before he could say anything the nurse read his quizzical look, "You were bleeding badly out of a puncture wound on both wrists and ankles. Nothing was working on them, so we tied your arm off to cut off the blood, before we remembered you had no circulation at all. The bandages were only to keep the blood from making a mess. I'm surprised you didn't slip into bloodlust." With these words she left abruptly, as if she had been speaking to an amoeba that was unable to understand her words.

He sat up and shook his head. There was a tray of food nearby: he was unsure whether to feel offended or touched by this mark: he did not ingest food normally, and they should know this. The thought of nourishment and he felt the thirst: inching through him like a solid black wave: the room began to spin. His flask was in his jacket pocket: the cold bitter drink was a far cry from the real thing, but the world ceased to spin now, but he still felt… unsatisfied.

He began to take the bandages off his arms and legs…most curious.

As the bandages were peeled back, it became apparent that something had been branded or tattooed on the underside of his wrists, both extending ¾ the way to his elbow: one was a sword, which looked very much like a medieval cross; the other was the silhouette of a guitar…most curious…further up his arm more of these strange diagrams: on one shoulder a yin yang was emblazoned, on the other shoulder a Hindu 'ohm' symbol in Sanskrit, and a crucifix… most curious…

He got up and pulled on his shirt, finally trench coat, pulled on his black beret, finally the work boots: the room spun and he steadied himself on the bed and slowly inched his way out of the hospital wing. No one made a move to help him as he groped his way along the walls to the Gryffindor portrait: he could hear the pounding in his ears, his body was becoming lighter, and he was frantic: he had to get to his coffin or…

"Passw…" the fat lady asked, but Sid ripped it physically off its wall, he vaguely heard its scream and protests to this as he stumbled through the door and looked around: the room was spinning, and people were staring at him: he heard sounds although they sounded far away…muffled. He could see the blood coursing within them all: streams of thick…red…

His coffin had been moved down into the common room. It was being used as a card table beside the fireplace. He flipped the lid back, sending butter beer bottles, cards and ships scattering on the ground. In the coffin now… Darkness…darkness…peace.

"Well you see mate…you were out for like…5 days…" Ron said as he sat on the chair next to Sid's coffin. Sid was sitting up listening. Harry, Ron and Hermione had decided to skip the morning in order to hear his story, "Wed heard that something had happened to you, but they weren't letting people in to visit; something about afraid of you 'awaking', or something."

Sid was silent. A bag of blood had been rushed to him by the department of some such, which was currently in charge of shafting the vampires. Now he supposed they knew why he had a coffin now: not to keep people out, but to keep him in and controlled.

He got up abruptly and walked up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. His chest was still sitting there untouched. Opening found it as he'd left it: a few books, a bible and Bhagavad-Gita, his guitar case leaning against the chest, and his armor was wrapped in cloth to protect it from scratches. He set the guitar case aside and pulled out his short sword, the wakizachi, and sat on the side of a bed. He drew the sword and heard the blades melody sing through the air…

Path the Seconde: The Way of the Music Man

He sat on the edge of a bed and took out his guitar, and slid his fingers over the strings, smiling to himself. He began to play a melody, its stinging bite soothing his wounded body.

This was his destiny: beauty.

He looked up at the door and saw Ron standing there looking at him, "Yes?"

Ron looked at the floor, "Hey Sid… Harry and Hermione are coming to my house for Christmas. Are you interested at all?"

((to any readers out there, there will not be any 'Vampire Boy on Human male' action here…))

He had never been invited anywhere for any kind of Christmas thing. His uncle and aunt were of the old breed of vampire, and had never encouraged any kind of religious festivities: partially because there was rarely any money.

Sid's old family lands had slowly withered away, the once powerful and legendary 'Empire of the Dragon' (or in Sid's native vampiric tongue 'Eras san Empiro vas Drakulya') existed only in name, controlled by self serving barons: those who had once been so fearful of his father and grandfather had taken their tithes and soldiers away from his family. It was a poor state of affairs for a mighty and old family to exist in…

The train kept going forward, past mountains, hills, forests… as Sid plotted mentally, in the general direction of Scotland or Wales, though they spent so much time in tunnels it was impossible to be certain.

Silence was Sid's credo for now, though Harry, Ron and Hermione encouraged conversation. Talking was just…not on Sid's mind. He had never really been accepted by anyone before, and now felt more than a little bit uncomfortable. The train was slowing now, the station looming ahead. Ron had assured Sid that his mother had been notified and whatnot, though Sid couldn't help but wonder to what extent she was informed she was on exactly who Sid was…

((Remember everyone I need feedback on how the new writing thing is going. How can I clarify? How can I improve here? Am I as terrible a writer as I perceive?))


	13. Chapter 13: Dante

Chapter 13: Dante

"**Arrogant defiance still thrives within us all: the belief that this is not the way things should be run, the way the world needs to turn. Evil will always exist, which is why we must always fight against it, and in doing so balance the equation. Truth does exist, there is a deeper meaning of life, and there is not one day that I shall live that I cannot fight for the oppressed. Ideology is only ideology until the world accepts it.**

**Beauty is within us all. People look at us and say: what? How can they be anything but animated corpses? But that is only what makes our achievements more vibrant. Light is most visible in dark places, beauty is more appreciated when it is contrasted to destruction. To me, a single rose contrasted to a sea of barren mud is more beautiful than any garden." Sidnay Ignatious Drakulya**

((Now…it wont always go path 1-2, it will pick up where the last left off path wise and sometimes both paths will be the same…if that makes any sense at all…the path system is only so people don't get confused.))

DISCLAIMER: This storyline contains foul language, and violent themes. I strongly caution my readers. I will try to dilute it as much as possible, but I still advise that my readers understand it is all in the name of my overall message.

**Path the Seconde: Way of the Music Maker**

Though it was a beautiful day, certain darkness emanated I recall; Diagon Alley was almost empty. Voldemort had seen to that, and Mrs. Weasley was hurrying them all along with great worry on her face. She had reacted in a way I had never expected to the news that I was a vampire. Though it obviously surprised her, she seemed to feel no great worry about that. Perhaps this was Lupins influence on her; perhaps it was simply a deep-seated belief in the equality of all creatures, or perhaps a mixture of the two.

As I passed by the fork that led down Knockturn Alley, I felt a sudden…presence. Eyes boring into me although the alley appeared empty. I turned my CD player off and stopped in my tracks.

Hermione noticed I had stopped, "Sid, what's up?"

"Nothing…just…I'll meet you guys back at the pub…" I replied, and I walked down the alley ignoring her please to do otherwise: I was a good deal stronger than any human who felt that I would be easy prey.

I was able to conceal myself in shadows form the tall buildings. Occasionally I would pass by a group of huddled people who would anylyse me. I however, ignored them: if they approached me…well…it had been a long time since I had tasted fresh blood and I doubted that they would be missed. Do not get me wrong: I am not violent by nature, I am simply sick of the shit the world shoves down my throat. I was very disillusioned at this point in my life.

The sound of throbbing bass, pounding drums…rock. I stopped in my tracks and found myself facing a shop. The windows were barred, but in the window were several guitars, amps, drums… a sign proclaimed "Remedy: Music Shop and Bar". The throbbing music was coming from here. The guitars themselves were enough to peak my curiosity.

I opened the door and the noise hit me like a wall, washing over me…purifying. The lights were unbelievably dim, but the store itself seemed a mixture of guitar shop, arena and practice space. The floor was covered with guitars on stands, amps stacked on each other, drums, bass guitars, keyboards, turn tables: my head was swimming with the possibilities, the sheer…amount of instruments. I had never seen more than a few in one location. A service counter was located to the left of the door and was manned by what looked like a rather muscular gargoyle who gave me the once over before nodding his assent that I enter. In the opposite corner behind a stack of amps, a small stage had been erected, and a band was playing with great gusto, with a few people watching them.

The guitar player was…great, the drums and bass were heavy and pounding, but as my eyes fell on the singer time seemed to stop for a moment.

He looked as if he had fallen out of a video game: his face was slim and slightly pointed his hair game down in bangs around his eyes. He was wearing sunglasses, and an old beaten dark grey bomber jacket, ripped jeans, and a black t-shirt, studded belts. He was what I would have classified as, in the muggle world, may be defined as a 'hardcore' or 'screamo' kid. He was also a vampire. They all were. Vampires can immediately tell each other, as a human can distinguish a rock from a tree. He was…not handsome: beautiful; almost feminine. He was…animated: both in appearance and in motions. His skin was too white, his complexion too clear, his hair too motionless.

He was the presence I had felt. In the spotlights limelight his pale skin was almost a searing white. I felt…entranced for a moment, and even as the wave of sound crashed over me again I remained motionless.

It became very apparent however that this was not a unified band. It was an apparent jam session. I picked up a nearby guitar, a Gibson Les Paul, and stepped up on the stage. The vampires eyed me for a moment but the music didn't stop though they obviously had their misgivings. The other guitarist stood before me and without breaking the groove showed me the chords he was playing and I joined in, tentatively at first. The lyrics kept going, the groove seemed unshakable: the drums were throbbing; the lighted stage seemed to shimmer and contrasted to the dark room. At once the lyrics stopped, and the other guitars started to solo. The singer looked back at me, and I realized that this was a challenge: as two swordsmen in a duel, it was time for me to prove myself. I played rhythm for the guitarist until he began to slide back into the rhythm, before launching into my solo. Eyes turned to me, people's expressions were stunned. The notes kept pouring out of my fingers. Everyone was swaying to the motion of the song nodding heads. I could feel the power of our music building and at the climax of the solo; I ended it and began to play a more distorted version of the rhythm: the two guitars were both perfectly contrasting, and the singer began again. I had passed their test…

The spotlights came down and the lights of the room went up a bit, though it was still very dark. People turned back to their shopping, those who had walked in to listen to the music exited talking among themselves. It was as if nothing had ever happened, though for one moment it was as if…as if some sort of musical nirvana had been attained…a kind of…of black heaven (not unlike the Anime). I set the guitar aside. The other musicians were clearing away, chatting among themselves, though the singer was still standing there eying me. The contrast in life styles must have been startling for any onlookers: me the one who looked like a classical reproduction of my grandfather Count Dracula and him the image of Squall from Final Fantasy 8.

He looked a bit suspicious for a moment before extending his hand, "Dante." He said simply.

I however bowed and said, very melodramatically to emphasize my importance and title, I said, "Count Sidnay Ignatius Vladimir Alexandre Drakulya."

Several people stopped what they were doing and turned obviously surprised, Dante however stared at me for a moment, blinked and than began to laugh.

I had to crack a smile a bit surprised by his reaction, "Yah…maybe a bit too melodramatic?"

He smiled and peered over his shades, "So what shall I call you than?"

"Sid will be fine. Or Vladimir…"

Dante was still chuckling, "So, what brings the 'Count of Drakulya' to a run down dive like Knockturn alley."

"I came in search of something."

Just than a commotion at the door distracted them; Ron had just walked through the door only to be apprehended by a goblin and the gargoyle, "No Humans allowed!" hissed the gargoyle, "People might think were doing something illegal in here. You know the rules."

Sid called over form the stage, "He's fine, he's with me."

The gargoyle and goblin shrugged and allowed Ron to enter. Ron looked a little bit disoriented, whether it was being in such a foreign environment, or the general number of so called 'magical creatures'.

While all the other patrons seemed a bit wary of Ron, Ron seemed intoxicated with the environment: his face mirrored the kind of brain rebooting Sid had seen on Ron's face so many times before, and he strode over to Sid quickly, trying to take everything in at once.

"Sorry, but we're staying at…the umm… hey drums…I mean, the pub tonight…" he seemed oblivious to his present company, "Just thought you'd like to know…" and with that he went off to inspect something.

Dante smiled, "Strange people…"

"Yah well… cant live with 'em, can't live without 'em." I replied with not a hint of irony in my voice.

Dante laughed, "I think we need to sit and talk." He gestured over to another counter that ran parallel with the stage, which had been hidden partially behind a stack of amplifiers. The place obviously doubled as some kind of…well probably illegal bar at times.

I sat down next to him. I didn't even know who he was, but I felt I could tell him things. Later I learned that this was one of his vampiric powers and he had been manipulating them to make me talk. Later when we were living together he told me that…

**Path the Firste: Way of the Sword**

Perhaps the strangest thing about that night I met Dante, was that I knew he would somehow be a major force in my life. I wasn't sure what that impact would be: good or bad; whether he would be Yin and Yang, and I decided to cast my luck to fate, "Fate often enough will save a man if his courage holds" as the saying from Beowulf goes.

Oddly enough on that day in the…well…I'm not sure what was odder than that day, but Ron seemed equally effected: he was enraptured by the Drum sets he saw there, and as he joined us at the counter, be muttered forlornly about an old set Bill had stored in the basement at the Burrow.

Dante walked us out of the bar and down the street said little, and before we parted he said to me, "Farewell Count Sidnay Ignatious Vladimir Alexandre Drakulya. I will be on contact with you…"

I called after him a bit 'drunk' on the blood we had ingested at the pub and he simply looked over his shoulder and said, "You go to Hogwarts. Just watch the mail dumbass." And with a laugh he disappeared into the gloom.

I can summarize my last months at Hogwarts in a paragraph because they were a time in my life of little, if any progression magically, spiritually and intellectually. Moreover I was catching a lot of flak at this time: Voldemort had struck a small community North of London. It was rumored Vampires were involved, so I was branded as 'One of Them.' or 'those fucking Vimps.' Ron, Hermione and Harry tried futilely to protect me, but that didn't stop the vandalism and harassment. I tried to rise above: I woke up very early with the rising sun and would practice with my swords for hours, and go to classes, than practice again during the evening.

However when I returned to my coffin one night I found my guitar in fragments: someone had taken it and smashed it to pieces: even the pickups had been ripped out and smashed so nothing could have been saved from the guitar. I felt a loss that cannot be described in words: than again loss cannot be conveyed within words: it must be felt to be understood. Just as courage and compassion can not be described in words, unless they are felt in every bone. Musashi-san told me that in one of my visions I had frequently now. You never know being alone until you are a wolf in a pack of sheep.

((Remember everyone: I am a comment whore. And if you like it, tell your friends! Spread the word! Go tell it on the mountain! Spread the word the Vampires don't have to equal angst! Don't just stop for me: discuss discuss discuss! You can't figure out the tricky hidden meanings in things if you don't think about them! Thank you for reading my fanfic!))


	14. Chapter 14: Answers and Questions

Chapter 14: Answers and Questions

"**Cuz music can speak and it can breathe**

**and it can be the sword of truth**

**and if you got the music in ya**

**than it can talk through you**

**So DEFY, Decry just don't lay down and die**

**Transcendence ain't a question of descendance**

**It's we who got the power, and it's us who gotta fight."**

**Zach dela Rosa (aka. DJ La Revolte!)**

**Parte the Seconde: Way of the Music Maker**

As I have said, my last months at Hogwarts were unpleasant (to say the least). The loss of my guitar was a detrimental blow to my moral. Ron, Hermione and Harry would half heartedly try to defend me in this state, but I spent much of my time alone, reading manuscripts my grandfather had brought back form his excursions to the Orient back for me when the Drakulya name was one that could stir fear in every creatures heart. One of these was an old Japanese copy of Miyamoto Musashi's famous 'Book of the Five Rings' on swordsmanship. What struck me most was the line in his works, which discussed the balance between peace and war, to know war was to know peace.

I felt that Musashi was sending me a message through this: to know the sword it to know the music. The tool is of little consequence, what is important is the ideal behind it. "In battle, if you make your opponent flinch, you have already won." Musashi wrote.

Through this time I remained in contact with Dante: there was something in his writing that made my suspicions rise: I barely knew him, and yet he took the time to reply to my letters… I sensed there was something in him though that was not malevolent. Like an older brother. Today Dante will claim that he is the one who convinced me to leave Hogwarts, but really, I had made my decision long before. One day in January, I just packed my trunk and left on the Hogwarts express for London. Ron wrote me later that nobody even knew I was gone until term report cards came out the following week (I failed all my courses).

When I reached Platform 9 and three quarters, Dante was leaning against a column of bricks waiting for the train. He looked much the same as he always had: hair was spiked in the back, and the bangs partially concealed his eyes, black t-shirt and the same faded bomber jacket I saw him wearing the first time, ripped jeans and numerous spiked belts. Not to mention sunglasses. Sunglasses are perhaps the only thing that is required of the vampire for a variety of reasons. History and lore teach that vampires only come out at night, to escape the suns light which are lethal. This is, in fact, bullshit. Vampires prefer night time, for there eyes are naturally created for night time, and going out in daylight without sunglasses means major migraines (Imagine in the winter, when everything is ice and the sun is shining really bright on the ice and you have to squint in order to see. It's a lot like that but year round). Dante let a faint smile and a large over acted mock salute as I got off the train and took up my bags and coffin.

"Count Sidnay Ignatius Vladimir Drakulya I presume?"

I gave him the finger and he laughed, "Where are we going exactly?"

Dante smiled and gestured for me to follow out the magical entrance, outside was a hearse, "We…acquired this hearse to most easily transport you and the coffin without raising too many questions from muggles or wizards… get in the back." I could see Mic-chan sitting at the wheel, wearing a rather ill fitting hearse driver's uniform, also wearing sunglasses.

Suddenly however the back of the hears was flung open and I was pulled inside roughly by a hair of arms, and the flash of a blade appeared before my throat, Dante got in behind me calmly and shut the back doors. He pulled out a long dagger himself and knelt in front of me, a half smile resting on his lips.

"Your very gullible you know that Sid?"

Anger seethed inside my chest, "Vladimir."

"Very well, 'Vlad'. Give me 1 good reason, _other_ than the 'Skliros Thanatos', as to why we should gut you now and dump your sorry bourgeois body in a ditch?"

The anger quickly dissipated within me…I don't know why I felt…jubilant, almost humored, "Well, for one thing you'd make Buddha cry tears of blood."

To my surprise, Dante smiled, and lowered his knife though he remained knelt in front of me "Would it wash away all our pain?"

"Only if you're a moron who thinks that threatening my life will get you anywhere."

My reply seemed to humor them all, and the two who held me arms released them and patted my shoulders. Dante looked impressed.

"Congratulations smartass, you're in."

Now it was my turn to be confused, "In? In what?"

Dante smiled, "You passed the test, to make sure you've got the kind of constitution to live out our lifestyle. Its pretty demanding, with no rewards, and dangerous, but hey, that's what we call 'being a vampire.'"

The hearse began to drive forward, and I responded, "Whatever it is, its gotta be better than Romania…"

Dante looked a little disbelieving, "Is life that bad for you in the heart of the lands you control?"

I laughed, "If we controlled them, do you really think that I would still be here?"

Some time later, we pulled up in front of the leaky cauldron, and Dante and I got out, carrying my coffin and trunk. The hearse pulled away quickly, leaving us there.

"C'mon Vlad."

The Leaky Cauldron was almost full of patrons, taking advantage of the sun and doing their shopping. There was a tangible decrease in volume as Dante and I entered. He muscled his way through the crowd, most of whom just back away nervously, as if afraid. Dante looked uncomfortable and sped up, though he was encumbered with my trunk.

We finally reached the emptiness of Diagon Alley, and Dante slowed his pace, "God I hate humans. A few freaking turncoat coward vampyre side with Voldemort and suddenly were all at war."

It was time I asked the thing that had been plaguing my mind, "Dante, why are you being so helpful to me?"

He remained silent for a moment, as we kept walking, "Would you believe its out of love for a comrade?"

I smiled, "Id believe it if I thought there were a chance of being true."

"In that case, let that be the reason for now. Let us just say for now that I am looking out for a good guitar player."

It was obvious that he was hiding something now, though I didn't press the issue: if he had intended me any genuine ill will, he had already had plenty of opportunities to kill me…

Knockturn Alley was dark and dingy as usual, and I felt…more alive in this atmosphere than anywhere else. The shadows teemed with excitement and the darkness all the more beautiful: there were no lies here, only plain, cold, truth. And I liked that.

Presently we found ourselves at the 'Remedy'. The shop was almost empty, save for a few creatures sitting at the bar. Dante led me up a flight of stairs and into a narrow dimly lit hallway, and finally through a narrow door, into a tiny room, illuminated by several candles, and occupied by a coffin set up on low box horses, a cluttered bedside table, and an open crate. There was barely room for another coffin, but he set mine down on a pair of wooden crates, "You'll share a room with me. At the Remedy, there isn't much space, and people are kinda crammed in up here."

I was even more confused now, "People live here?"

Dante smiled, "Yah, Micchan is an anarchist, so he basically lets anyone stay here so long as they pitch in somehow. We really don't have any humans here; everyone is a so called 'magical creature' so we all unite here as sort of… haven from oppression."

Mic-chan was as good as his word, as soon as I awoke later that night; I went downstairs where Dante was onstage with another band. The house was packed, as the western expression goes. The band was unimportant, though I sat at the bard and perused the crowd. They were a motley assortment of aggressive Werewolves, meditative Goblins, sullen Gargoyles, silent brooding Vampires, and even a few humans. There were no distinctions between species here; everyone was united by the music.

As Dante's set came to a close he strolled over to the bar and sat next to me, sneering slightly at the crowd as he stretched his arms, and nodded to a group of passing girls who giggled and stared at him, saying in unison, "Dante." Before giggling again; I couldn't help but role my eyes.

Dante just smiled, and peered over his sunglasses at me (even though the room was dark). "You have to hear this next guy. He's got some absolutely amazing lyrics and rhymes."

It was Dreads, the man I had seen at the Weird Sisters concert. I stood up, and he seemed to recognize me as well. I watched his performance with intense interest: he had a magnetic appeal, with so much energy and aggression crammed into his motions and lyrics. It was…transcendental. The heavy base and turn table scratching were something I had never heard before.

"What is this?"

Dante gave a laugh, "Don't tell me they don't have Hip Hop in Transylvania."

The show went by in a blur of throbbing heads and flashing lights, and when it was over, the crowd began to file out. Dreads came over to where Dante and I were sitting and he took Dante's outstretched hand.

"Hey Zach, awesome set."

Zach (or as I would forever call him 'Dreads') smiled and nodded, before looking at me and nodding, before saying with a smirk, "What's with the fresh meat Dante?"

Dante smiled and gestured to me, "This, entity of which you speak, is genuine Nobility. Count…"

"Sidnay Ignatius Alexandre Vladimir Drakulya." Dreads echoed, "You come along way from playing that Weird Sisters concert I hear."

I just eyed him and said, "Such is life, or if you are a vampire, death."

Both Dante and Dreads laughed before sitting down on a stool and ordering something I could not hear over the din. Soon the place was empty save for us three and the bartender who leaned on the bar and talked animatedly with us. Dante kept ordering something for me which had a strong taste of alcohol mixed with blood, though it didn't seem to effect me as much as Dante had expected. We spent the night down there and were awake when Mic-chan came to open the store back up. He seemed amused by our presence. Something had occurred to me during the night. I needed a new guitar, and I had no money.

"Hey Mic-chan…what do you do with the broken guitars beyond repair?"

The room was dusty and full of death: to me when music ends, that is death. These guitars were locked in a sort of eternal Limbo, and I was here I bring one back to life. They were all scrapped, but I was able to take the body and neck form an old Les Paul, the tuning pegs from a Telecaster, and a set of pickups from several other guitars. The wiring I just ripped right out of the newest guitar on hand. I don't know how long I spend in there; it must have been at least several hours. I felt as though I had to…

Parte the Seconde: Way of the Sword

The following is an excerpt from Dante's memoirs, "Dancing with the Demons"

When I met Vlad on the train, we attempted to initiate him, test his courage and limits. He had no limits. I don't know what he suspected from us: organization, direction, or simply perhaps acceptance. He had spent his life among persecution and decaying decadence. I think all that he existed on was his thirst for glory and knowledge of what his ancestors had done in the past. Vlad the Impaler had, within 2 centuries, brought the magical world to its knees with his brilliant military expeditions, his son, Sidnay's father, had taken the empire into the Far East, and revolutionized the vampire world. Before them his family was warriors and conquerors: His cousins, the Goths had crushed the Roman Empire. His was in the shadow of those before him, and as we all know, he would become the greatest in a long line of greats…

Even his insistence upon being referred to as 'Vlad' was a reflection of this, as opposed to his first name 'Sidnay' (given to him by a friend of his fathers, who was the British MoM representative to Romania)…

end of reference change perspective to Narrator

Knockturn Alley was bathed in its usual shadows, a faint fog had fallen on London, and the mist seemed particularly thick in this particular area. An almost cliché 'London Fog' atmosphere hung in the air as Sid strode through the billowing clouds, glad that he was carrying his short sword under the long coat. Lately it had seemed as though someone were watching him. He hadn't voiced this to Dante who would call him paranoid, and surely not to anyone else who would think him insane.

He could feel their presence following him even before they smoke, and was only aware of a small circle of people in black robes. Black robes and masks…

"Count Dracula…" One said in a raspy, venomous voice.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, irritated "Drakulya."

"What's the difference?" one of the Death Eaters, said taking a step forward as if to intimidate him.

"Well, one is a bastardization of my name, used by ignorant Death Eaters who can't grasp the vocation of proper language. The other is my name." Sid smiled at the Death Eaters surprise at his retort, "Now if you don't mind, get to the bloody point or get out of my way."

The Death Eater who appeared in charge looked to the others who now seemed timid, their own courage being questioned by this…creature. The Death Eater stepped forward, "The Dark Lord sends his greetings, and wishes to propose an agreement between our races. If you will support the Dark Lord in his endeavors, the rewards will be great…"

The mist swirled around them, "Tell Darth Vader, that I will…think about it."

The Death Eater smiled, "Think swiftly Count, or his good will can turn to wrath…" and with a crack, the Death Eaters were gone and the fog had lifted.

"So…you were accosted by Death Eaters?" Dante asked, blinking in confusion.

Sid had made it back to the Remedy, and the safety therein, and had told Dante what had happened. "Well, don't act so surprised Vlad, you ARE the bloody count of bloody Dracula… no pun intended…"

Sid sighed, "Dante…I think its time I go home…"

((I know this chapter is really badly written, and it took a while to do, I'm very very very sorry. To spark what must be waning interest, I will give special props to anyone who can name who each of my main characters are based off of: Each has their own distinct basis in someone in the world: musical or otherwise.))


	15. Chapter 15: The Art of Dying

Chapter 15: The Way of Dying

"The term 'warrior' speaks of the "Two ways of Culture and Conflict" and to relish these two is our way **(the samurai way). **A warrior should make his best effort in the martial arts according to his own abilities and situation, even if he is naturally untalented in this Way." _Miyamoto Musashi_, "The Book of the Five Rings"

"I have found essence of Bushido: to Die!" _Tsunetomo Yamamoto,_ "The Hagakure"

IMGhttp/img. the Firste: Way of the Sword

The smoke billowed past the train windows as they sped through the Carpathian Mountains: they were in Sid's home territory, and already Dante could tell that Sid was unwelcome: muggle peasants on the train obviously knew a vampire, and the fear within their eyes was as tangible as the tension in the air.

Sid, or Vlad, had hidden himself under the brim of his hat, and Dante thought him to be asleep until he said, his eyes still on hidden from view, "Tell the others we disembark at the next stop…"

Their travels through France, Italy, and finally the Balkans had partially been accomplished via foot, rail, horse and flight, and in every country they seemed to find a new companion, until their retinue, originally comprising of Dante and Vladimir, had grown to seven in total: there was Pierre de Ratsibon, a young and ambitious son of a poor French vampire knight. Hungry for glory, he had joined the entourage with the two of them in Paris. Florence and Humbert of Sicily, were both Italian vampires were from families who and once been staunch supporters and allies of Sidnays father, and so had come along to defend their family honor. Gunter and Hans von Hanover were both German wizards of mixed ancestry: part Goblin, part Demon.

(Authors Note: Demons are often given a bad image from history being sent from 'Hell' and thus, technically from Satan, but one must keep in mind that 'Satan' is ultimately subservient to the 'God', and therefore Demons are simply servants to the Servant. Thus Demons, like vampires, are not necessarily evil. The main difference between Demons and Vampires is that vampires are a good deal more cunning, ruthless, and well…dead (Primus vampires being animated Corpses gifted with abstract thought. More on vampire reproduction at a later time) Hans and Günter were both large, muscular, imposing youths, who had ancestry running back into the ranks of the Knights Templar and other Crusaders: fervently religious, they followed Vladimir because of their pursuit for salvation and glory.

The door slid open and Gunter poked his head in, "Herr Dracule… der Zug kommt um der Bahnhoff…" ((OOC sorry everyone if that's grammatically incorrect; I'm still only LEARNING German…)).

"Danke schon Gunter. Let's go Dante."

They had packed light: Vlad only taking his swords and armor, which were locked in his chest, and Dante only bringing a change of clothes, and his dagger.

The Mountains towered above them, as the seven travelers stood on the isolated train platform, stretching their limbs. They appeared to be ordinary sightseers, were it not for their pale faces, unkempt appearance.

"Welcome home Vlad…" Vlad muttered to himself as he stared up at the twisting peaks of the mountains.

Castle Dracula was not what the other travelers had expected. In its heyday it must have been a formidable military construction. Now it was essentially ruin, with its once tall towers now piles of rubble, the remaining structures were in equally bad shape and in places the roof was crumbling in. It was a large work, built in the middle ages, as they stood in the overgrown courtyard, they could see that charred shell of what was once of cathedral.

The keep was perhaps the only building that was not entirely destroyed, and over its massive oaken doors were the words most of which were unintelligible, but those that could be perceived read, in an early Vampiric tongue, "Ćenestoros eşştoremă sraoniis sanquinę orum…" or, "What death cannot conquer, we shall."

"Shit Vlad, that's a bit…morbid don't you think?" Florence asked. She had come from a long line of vampires who had not been warlike since the Renaissance had ended. She and her brother knew much of their own past, but little of their species.

Vlad smiled, "You obviously know nothing about my grandfather. He was known as the 'Impaler' for reasons that had nothing to do with mercy and tolerance…

As they walked into the castle keep, only silence greeted them aside from the door hinges creaking and their breathing.

The room was so large, that the roof disappeared into the darkness. Humbert craned his head to the roof, "Wow…"

Through another set of oak doors, and they were in another room. Torn tapestries hung on the walls, along with rusted swords and axes. Suits of armor lines a wall, but in the middle on a raised dais sat a stone throne, covered with leaves and dry twigs from where the roof had caved in above it.

Gunter asked in his thick accent, "What do we do now my lord?"

Vlad thought for a moment before, with his eyes on a torn and faded tapestry emblazoned with the family crest, responding "Rebuild."

Parte the Seconde- Way of the Music Maker.

The Remedy was empty, even though it was a lovely sunny day and even the streets of Knockturn alley could be described as 'bustling' (or as bustling as it ever got).

Vlad sat on a bar stool and strummed his guitar silently.

Dante came down stretching and shirtless, followed by two girls who promptly kissed his cheeks and exited the bar. "Christ Sid, you been up all night."

Vlad said nothing, but smiled and inclined his head. He was still nursing the same wine glass filled with vodka and blood he had been given the night before.

Dante came over and drained his glass in a gulp before ordering another, "Jeez Sid. You need your sleep. You are making some unhealthy lifestyle decisions."

"Says the vampire drinking at 11 in the morning?"

"Ah well you see, I'm a professional rock star. Don't try this at home kiddies."

Vlad looked thoughtful, "Hey Dante, why haven't we done that yet?"

"Done what?" Dante's replied after draining another glass of blood and vodka.

"Formed a band, I mean… You could sing and play rhythm or something."

"Sid there is a million bands out there with singers playing guitar, and with my exact same voice. We'd need something…new. You have any ideas?" Dante sounded almost sarcastic. However at that moment the door jingled and in walked Zack wearing his sunglasses and dreadlocks done up in a ball at the back of his head.

Vlad appeared as though a great revelation had been revealed to him, "Say…Zack…"

IMGhttp/img. 


End file.
